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LOENA   Doo:NrE 


A  Romance  of  Exmoor 


By  E.   D.   BLACKMORE 

AUTHOR  OF  "CRADOCK  NOWELL,"   "ALICE   LORRAINE,"   "CLARA 
VAUGHAN,"   ETC. 


Mij  /not  yav  Ile'AoTro?,  ju-ij  |u.oi  xpv<T€ia  Ta.\avTa 
Eirj  ex^v,  jonjSe  npoaOe  Qietv  aveixiav  • 

'AAA'  vwb  TO.  Tre'Tpo  rab^  aaofiai,  a-y/ca?  exwv  TV, 
Svvj'Oju.a  /u,aA'  iaopiav  rdi'  Sc/ceAaj'  es  oiAa. 


ILLUSTRATED  EDITION 


IN  TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL.   L 


NEW  YORK:  46  East  14th  Street 

THOMAS    y.    CHOW  ELL    &    CO. 

BOSTON  :   100  Purchase  Street 


Copyright,  1893, 
By  T.  Y.  CROWE  LL  &  CO. 


PREFACE. 


This  work  is  called  a  "  romance,"  because  the  incidents, 
characters,  time,  and  scenery  are  alike  romantic.  And  in 
shaping  this  old  tale,  the  Writer  neither  dares,  nor  desires,  to 
claim  for  it  the  dignity,  or  cumber  it  with  the  difficulty  of  an 
historic  novel. 
*•  And  yet  he  thinks  that  the  outlines  are  filled  in  more 
carefully,  and  the  situations  (however  simple)  more  warmly 
colored  and  quickened,  than  a  reader  would  expect  to  find 
^in  what  is  called  a  '^  legend." 

J  And  he  knows  that  any  son  of  Exmoor,  chancing  on  this 
volume,  cannot  fail  to  bring  to  mind  the  nurse-tales  of  his 
^  childhood  —  the  savage  deeds  of  the  outlaw  Doones  in  the 
>  depth  of  Bagworthy  Forest,  the  beauty  of  the  hapless  maid 
'^  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  them,  the  plain  John  Ridd's 
^;^Ierculean  power,  and  (memory's  too  congenial  food)  the 
exploits  of  Tom  Faggus. 

^      March,  1869. 

m 


I  /-"-^^i^^j^  ^~^.r\ 


PREFACE. 

TO    THE    SIXTH    EDITION. 


Few  things  have  surprised  me  more,  and  nothing  has  more 
pleased  me,  than  the  great  success  of  this  simple  tale. 

For  truly  it  is  a  grand  success,  to  win  the  attention  and 
kind  regard,  not  of  the  general  public  only,  but  also  of  those 
who  are  at  home  with  the  scenery,  people,  life,  and  language, 
wherein  a  native  cannot  always  satisfy  the  natives. 

Therefore  any  son  of  Devon  may  imagine,  and  will  not 
grudge,  the  writer's  delight  at  hearing  from  a  recent  visitor 
to  the  west,  that,  '^  ^  Lorna  Doone,'  to  a  Devonshire  man,  is 
as  good  as  clotted  cream,  almost !  '^ 

Although  not  half  so  good  as  that,  it  has  entered  many  a 
tranquil,  happy,  pure,  and  hospitable  home  ;  and  the  author, 
while  deeply  grateful  for  this  genial  reception,  ascribes  it 
partly  to  the  fact  that  his  story  contains  no  word,  or  thought, 
disloyal  to  its  birthright  in  the  fairest  county  of  England. 

January,  1873. 

iv 


CONTENTS. 


Vol.   I. 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

I.     Elements   of  Education 1 

II.     An  Important  Item 4 

III.  The  War-path  of  the  Doones 12 

IV.  A  Rash  Visit 23 

V.     An  Illegal   Settlement 30 

VI.     Necessary   Practice = 35 

VII.     Hard   it   is  to   climb 41 

VIII.     A  Boy  and  a  Girl 50 

IX.     There  is  No  Place   like  Home 67 

X.     A  Brave  Rescue  and  a  Rough  Ride 63 

XI.     Tom  Deserves  his  Supper 69 

XII.     A  Man  justly  Popular 76 

XIII.  Master  Huckaback  comes  in 84 

XIV.  A  Motion  which  ends  in  a  Mull 92 

XV.     Quo  Warranto? 97 

XVI.       LORNA   GROWING    FORMIDABLE 105 

XVIL     John  is    bewitched Ill 

XVIII.     Witchery  leads  to  Witchcraft ....  118 

XIX.     Another  Dangerous  Interview 122 

XX.     Lorna  begins  her  Story 128 

XXI.     Lorna  ends   her  Story 134 

XXII.     A  Long    Spring   Month 141 

XXIII.  A  Royal  Invitation 147 

XXIV.  A  Safe  Pass  for  King's  Messenger 156 

XXV.     A  Great  Man   attends  to  Business 163 

XXVI.     John   is  drained  and  cast  aside 171 

V 


coy  TENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVII.  Home  again  at  last 178 

XXVIII.  John  has  Hope  of  Lorna 181 

XXIX.  Reaping  leads  to  Revelling 191 

XXX.  Annie  gets  the  Best  of  it 199 

XXXI.  John  Fry's  Errand 208 

XXXII.  Feeding  of  the  Pigs 218 

XXXIII.  An  Early  Morning  Call 228 

XXXIV.  Two  Negatives  make  an  Affirmative 231 

XXXV.  Ruth  is  not  like  Lorna 236 

XXXVI.  John  returns  to  Business 242 

XXXVII.  A  VERY  Desperate  Venture 248 

XXXVIII.  A  Good  Turn  for  Jeremy 259 

XXXIX.  A  Troubled  State  and  a  Foolish  Joke 268 

XL.  Two  Fools  together 280 

XLL  Cold  Comfort 288 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Vol.  I. 


Draion  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
Engraved  by  John  Andrew  &  Soji  Co. 


Photogravure  Frontispiece.  '-^^^ 

"  I    PUMPED    FOR    HER    VERY    HEARTILY  " 15 

"She  LEAPED    THE    WIDE    WATER-TROUGH    SIDEWAYS    ACROSS  TO   AND 

FRO    TILL   NO    BREATH   WAS    LEFT    IN    ME  " 69 

LORNA    DOONE 108 

"Is    OUR    ADMIRATION    MUTUAL  ?  " 136 

"  In    THE    NAME    OF   GOD,    SIR,  LET    ME    GO  !  " 166 

"He    LEANED  OVER   AND    PEERED    IN   AROUND    THE    ROCKY   CORNER"  215 

"  as  i  seized  upon  his  bridle  " 267 

"  Fools  you  are  :    be  fools  forever  "  288 

vii 


LORNA    DOONE: 

A  ROMANCE  OF  EXMOOR. 
CHAPTER  I. 

ELEMENTS    OF    EDUCATION. 

If  anybody  cares  to  read  a  simple  tale  told  simply,  I,  John 
Kidd,  of  the  parish  of  Oare,  in  the  county  of  Somerset,  yeoman 
and  churchwarden,  have  seen  and  had  a  share  in  some  doings 
of  this  neighborhood,  which  I  will  try  to  set  down  in  order, 
God  sparing  my  life  and  memory.  And  they  who  light  upon 
this  book  should  bear  in  mind,  not  only  that  I  write  for  the 
clearing  of  our  parish  from  ill-fame  and  calumny,  but  also  a 
thing  which  will,  I  trow,  appear  too  often  in  it,  to  wit  —  that 
1  am  nothing  more  than  a  plain  unlettered  man,  not  read  in 
foreign  languages,  as  a  gentleman  might  be,  nor  gifted  with 
long  words  (even  in  mine  own  tongue),  save  what  I  may  have 
won  from  the  Bible,  or  Master  William  Shakespeare,  whom,  in 
the  face  of  common  opinion,  I  do  value  highly.  In  short,  I  am 
an  ignoramus,  but  pretty  well  for  a  yeoman. 

My  father  being  of  good  substance,  at  least  as  we  reckon  in 
Exmoor,  and  seized  in  his  own  right,  from  many  generations, 
of  one,  and  that  the  best  and  largest,  of  the  three  farms  into 
which  our  parish  is  divided  (or  rather  the  cultured  part 
thereof),  he,  John  Ridd,  the  elder,  churchwarden  and  overseer, 
being  a  great  admirer  of  learning,  and  well  able  to  write  his 
name,  sent  me  his  only  son  to  be  schooled  at  Tiverton,  in  the 
county  of  Devon.  For  the  chief  boast  of  that  ancient  town 
(next  to  its  woollen-staple)  is  a  worthy  grammar-school,  the 
largest  in  the  west  of  England,  founded  and  handsomely 
endowed  in  the  year  1604,  by  Master  Peter  Blundell,  of  that 
same  place,  clothier. 

VOL.  I. —  1  1 


2  LOBNA  DOONE, 

Here,  by  the  time  I  was  twelve  years  old,  I  had  risen  into 
the  upper  school,  and  could  make  bold  with  Eutropius  and 
Csesar  —  by  aid  of  an  English  version  —  and  as  much  as  six 
lines  of  Ovid.  Some  even  said  that  I  might,  before  manhood, 
rise  almost  to  the  third  form,  being  of  a  persevering  nature ; 
albeit,  by  full  consent  of  all  (except  my  mother),  thick-headed. 
But  that  would  have  been,  as  I  now  perceive,  an  ambition 
beyond  a  farmer's  son;  for  there  is  but  one  form  above  it,  and 
that  made  of  masterful  scholars,  entitled  rightly  "monitors." 
So  it  came  to  pass,  by  the  grace  of  God,  that  I  was  called  away 
from  learning,  whilst  sitting  at  the  desk  of  the  junior  lirst 
in  the  upper  school,  and  beginning  the  Greek  verb  rvTrrco. 

My  eldest  grandson  makes  bold  to  say  that  I  never  could  have 
learned  ^tXeco,  ten  pages  further  on,  being  all  he  himself  could 
manage,  with  plenty  of  stripes  to  help  him.  I  know  that  he 
hath  more  head  than  I  —  though  never  will  he  have  such  body ; 
and  am  thankful  to  have  stopped  betimes,  with  a  meek  and 
wholesome  head-piece. 

But  if  you  doubt  of  my  having  been  there,  because  now  I 
know  so  little,  go  and  see  my  name,  "  John  Bidd, "  graven  on 
that  very  form.  Forsooth,  from  the  time  I  was  strong  enough 
to  open  a  knife  and  to  spell  my  name,  I  began  to  grave  it 
in  the  oak,  first  of  the  block  whereon  I  sate,  and  then  of  the 
desk  in  front  of  it,  according  as  I  was  promoted  from  one  to 
other  of  them :  and  there  my  grandson  reads  it  now,  at  this 
present  time  of  writing,  and  hath  fought  a  boy  for  scoffing  at 
it — "John  Bidd  his  name,"  —  and  done  again  in"winkeys," 
a  mischievous  but  cheerful  device,  in  which  we  took  great 
pleasure. 

This  is  the  manner  of  a  "winkey,"  which  I  here  set  down, 
lest  child  of  mine,  or  grandchild,  dare  to  make  one  on  my 
premises ;  if  he  does,  I  shall  know  the  mark  at  once,  and  score 
it  well  upon  him.  The  scholar  obtains,  by  prayer  or  price,  a 
handful  of  salt-petre,  and  then  with  the  knife,  wherewith  he 
should  rather  be  trying  to  mend  his  pens,  what  does  he  do  but 
scoop  a  hole  where  the  desk  is  some  three  inches  thick.  This 
hole  should  be  left  with  the  middle  exalted,  and  the  circumf ere 
dug  more  deeply.  Then  let  him  fill  it  with  salt-petre,  all 
save  a  little  space  in  the  midst,  where  the  boss  of  the  wood  is. 
Upon  that  boss  (and  it  will  be  the  better  if  a  splinter  of  timber 
rise  upward)  he  sticks  the  end  of  his  candle  of  tallow,  or  "  rat's 
tail,"  as  we  called  it,  kindled  and  burning  smoothly.  Anon, 
as  he  reads  by  that  light  his  lesson,  lifting  his  eyes  now  and 
then  it  may  be,    the  fire    of   candle  lays  hold  of   the  petre 


ELEMENTS   OF  EDUCATION.  3 

with  a  spluttering  noise  and  a  leaping.  Then  should  the  pupil 
seize  his  pen,  and,,  regardless  of  the  nib,  stir  bravely,  and  he 
will  see  a  glow  as  of  burning  mountains,  and  a  rich  smoke,  and 
sparks  going  merrily;  nor  will  it  cease,  if  he  stir  wisely,  and 
there  be  good  store  of  petre,  until  the  wood  is  devoured  through, 
like  the  sinking  of  a  well-shaft.  Xow  well  may  it  go  with  the 
head  of  a  boy  intent  upon  his  primer,  who  betides  to  sit  there- 
under !  But,  above  all  things,  have  good  care  to  exercise  this 
art,  before  the  master  strides  up  to  his  desk,  in  the  early  gray 
of  the  morning. 

Other  customs,  no  less  worthy,  abide  in  the  school  of  Blun- 
dell,  such  as  the  singeing  of  nightcaps ;  but  though  they  have 
a  pleasant  savor,  and  refreshing  to  think  of,  I  may  not  stop  to 
note  them,  unless  it  be  that  goodly  one  at  the  incoming  of  a 
flood.  The  school-house  stands  beside  a  stream,  not  very  large, 
called  "  Lowman, "  which  flows  into  the  broad  river  of  Exe, 
about  a  mile  below.  This  Lowman  stream,  although  it  be  not 
fond  of  brawl  and  violence  (in  the  manner  of  our  Lynn),  yet  is 
wont  to  flood  into  a  mighty  head  of  waters  when  the  storms  of 
rain  provoke  it;  and  most  of  all  when  its  little  co-mate,  called 
the  "  Taunton  brook  "  —  where  I  have  plucked  the  very  best 
cresses  that  ever  man  put  salt  on  —  comes  foaming  down  like  a 
great  roan  horse,  and  rears  at  the  leap  of  the  hedge-rows.  Then 
are  the  gray  stone  walls  of  Blundell  on  every  side  encompassed, 
the  vale  is  spread  over  with  looping  waters,  and  it  is  a  hard 
thing  for  the  daj'-boys  to  get  home  to  their  suppers. 

And  in  that  time,  the  porter,  old  Cop  (so  called  because  he 
hath  copper  boots  to  keep  the  wet  from  his  stomach,  and  a  nose 
of  copper  also,  in  right  of  other  waters),  his  place  it  is  to  stand 
at  the  gate,  attending  to  the  flood-boards  grooved  into  one 
another,  and  so  to  watch  the  torrent's  rise,  and  not  be  washed 
away,  if  it  please  God  he  may  help  it.  But  long  ere  the  flood 
hath  attained  this  height,  and  while  it  is  only  waxing,  certain 
boys  of  deputy  will  watch  at  the  stoop  of  the  drain-holes,  and 
be  apt  to  look  outside  the  walls  when  Cop  is  taking  a  cordial. 
And  in  the  very  front  of  the  gate,  just  without  the  archway, 
where  the  ground  is  paved  most  handsomely,  yovl  may  see  in 
■  copy-letters  done  a  great  P.  B.  of  white  pebbles.  Now,  it  is 
the  custom  and  the  law  that  when  the  invading  waters,  either 
fluxing  along  the  wall  from  below  the  road-bridge,  or  pouring 
sharply  across  the  meadows  from  a  cut  called  "  Owen's  ditch  " 
—  and  I  myself  have  seen  it  come  both  ways  —  upon  the  very 
instant  when  the  waxing  element  lips  though  it  be  but  a  single 
pebble  of  the  founder's  letters,  it  is  in  the  license  of  any  boy. 


4  LOBNA  DOONE. 

soever  small  and  undoctrined,  to  rush  into  the  great  school- 
rooms, where  a  score  of  masters  sit  heavily^  and  scream  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "P.  B." 

Then,  with  a  yell,  the  boys  leap  up,  or  break  away  from 
their  standing;  they  toss  their  caps  to  the  black-beamed  roof, 
and  haply  the  very  books  after  them;  and  the  great  boys  vex 
no  more  the  small  ones,  and  the  small  boys  stick  up  to  the 
great  ones.  One  with  another,  hard  they  go,  to  see  the  gain 
of  the  waters,  and  the  tribulation  of  Cop,  and  are  prone  to  kick 
the  day-boys  out,  with  words  of  scanty  compliment.  Then  the 
masters  look  at  one  another,  having  no  class  to  look  to,  and 
(boys  being  no  more  left  to  watch)  in  a  manner  they  put  their 
mouths  up.  With  a  spirited  bang  they  close  their  books, 
and  make  invitation  the  one  to  the  other  for  pipes  and  foreign 
cordials,  recommending  the  chance  of  the  time,  and  the  comfort 
away  from  cold  water. 

But,  lo !  I  am  dwelling  on  little  things  and  the  pigeons'  eggs 
of  infancy,  forgetting  the  bitter  and  heavy  life  gone  over  me 
since  then.  If  I  am  neither  a  hard  man  nor  a  very  close  one, 
God  knows  I  have  had  no  lack  of  rubbing  and  pounding,  to 
make  stone  of  me.  Yet  can  I  not  somehow  believe  that  we 
ought  to  hate  one  another,  to  live  far  asunder,  and  block  the 
mouth  each  of  his  little  den;  as  do  the  Avild  beasts  of  the  wood, 
and  the  hairy  outangs  now  brought  over,  each  with  a  chain 
upon  him.  Let  that  matter  be  as  it  will.  It  is  beyond  me  to 
unfold,  and  mayhap  of  my  grandson's  grandson.  All  I  know 
is  that  wheat  is  better  than  when  I  began  to  sow  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN    IMPORTANT    ITEM. 

Kow  the  cause  of  my  leaving  Tiverton  school,  and  the  way 
of  it,  were  as  follows.  On  the  29th  day  of  November,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  1673,  the  very  day  when  I  was  twelve  years 
old,  and  had  spent  all  my  substance  in  sweetmeats,  with  which 
I  made  treat  to  the  little  boys,  till  the  large  boys  ran  in  and 
took  them,  we  came  out  of  school  at  five  o'clock,  as  the  rule  is 
upon  Tuesdays.  According  to  custom,  we  drove  the  day-boys 
in  brave  rout  down  the  causeway,  from  the  school-porch  even 
to  the  gate  where  Cop  has  his  dwelling  and  duty.  Little  it 
recked  us  and  helped  them  less,  that  they  were  our  founder's 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  5 

citizens,  and  haply  his  own  grand-ne^^hews  (for  he  left  no  direct 
descendants),  neither  did  we  much  inquire  what  their  lineage 
was.  For  it  had  long  been  fixed  among  us,  who  were  of  the 
house  and  chambers,  that  these  same  day-boys  were  all 
"  caddes, "  as  we  had  discovered  to  call  it,  because  they  paid  no 
groat  for  their  schooling,  and  brought  their  own  commons  with 
them.  In  consumption  of  these  we  would  help  them,  for  our 
fare  in  hall  fed  appetite;  and  while  we  ate  their  victuals  we 
allowed  them  freely  to  talk  to  us.  Nevertheless,  we  could 
not  feel,  when  all  the  victuals  were  gone,  but  that  these  boys 
required  kicking  from  the  premises  of  Blundell.  And  some  of 
them  were  shop-keepers'  sons,  young  grocers,  fellmongers,  and 
poulterers,  and  these,  to  their  credit,  seemed  to  know  how  right- 
eous it  was  to  kick  them.  But  others  were  of  high  family,  as 
any  need  be,  in  Devon  —  Carews,  and  Bouchiers,  and  Bastards, 
and  some  of  these  would  turn  sometimes,  and  strike  the  boy 
that  kicked  them.  But  to  do  them  justice,  even  these  knew 
that  they  must  be  kicked  for  not  paying. 

After  these  "  charity-boys  "  were  gone,  as  in  contumely  we 
called  them  —  ''If  you  break  my  bag  on  my  head,"  said  one, 
"  whence  will  you  dine,  to-morrow?  "  —  and  after  old  Cop  with 
clang  of  iron  had  jammed  the  double  gates  in  under  the  scruff- 
stone  archway,  whereupon  are  Latin  verses,  done  in  brass  of 
small  quality,  some  of  us  who  were  not  hungry,  and  cared  not 
for  the  supper-bell,  having  sucked  much  parliament  and  dumps 
at  my  only  charges  —  not  that  I  ever  bore  much  wealth,  but 
because  I  had  been  thrifting  it  for  this  time  of  my  birth,  —  we 
were  leaning  quite  at  dusk  against  the  iron  bars  of  the  gate, 
some  six,  or  it  may  be  seven  of  us,  small  boys  all,  and  not 
conspicuous  in  the  closing  of  the  daylight  and  the  fog  that  came 
at  eventide,  else  Cop  would  have  rated  us  up  the  green,  for  he 
was  churly  to  little  boys  when  his  wife  had  taken  their  money. 
There  was  plenty  of  room  for  all  of  us,  for  the  gate  will  hold 
nine  boys  close-packed,  unless  they  be  fed  rankly,  whereof  is 
little  danger;  and  now  we  were  looking  out  on  the  road  and 
wishing  we  could  get  there;  hoping,  moreover,  to  see  a  good 
string  of  pack-horses  come  by,  with  troopers  to  protect  them. 
For  the  day-boys  had  brought  us  word  that  some  intending 
their  way  to  the  town  had  lain  that  morning  at  Sampford 
Peveril,  and  must  be  in  ere  nightfall,  because  Mr.  Faggus  was 
after  them.  Now  ]\Ir.  Faggus  was  my  first  cousin,  and  an  honor 
to  the  family,  being  a  Northmolton  man,  of  great  renown  on 
the  highway,  from  Barum  town  even  to  London.  Therefore, 
of  course,  I  hoped  that  he  would  catch  the  packmen,  and  the 
boys  were  asking  my  opinion,  as  of  an  oracle,  about  it. 


t)  LORNA   DOONE. 

A  certain  boy  leaning  up  against  me  would  not  allow  my 
elbow  room,  and  struck  me  very  sadly  in  the  stomach  part, 
though  his  own  was  full  of  my  parliament.  And  this  I  felt  so 
unkindly,  that  I  smote  him  straightway  in  the  face  without 
tarrying  to  consider  it,  or  weighing  the  question  duly.  Upon 
this  he  put  his  head  down,  and  presented  it  so  vehemently  at 
the  middle  of  my  waistcoat,  that  for  a  minute  or  more  my  breath 
seemed  dropped,  as  it  were,  from  my  pockets,  and  my  life 
seemed  to  stop  from  great  want  of  ease.  Before  I  came  to 
myself  again,  it  had  been  settled  for  us  that  we  should  move 
to  the  "Ironing-box,"  as  the  triangle  of  turf  is  called,  where 
the  two  causeways  coming  from  the  school-porch  and  the  hall- 
porch  meet,  and  our  fights  are  mainly  celebrated ;  only  we  must 
wait  until  the  convoy  of  horses  had  passed,  and  then  make  a 
ring  by  candlelight,  and  the  other  boys  would  like  it.  But  sud- 
denly there  came  round  the  post  where  the  letters  of  our 
founder  are,  not  from  the  way  of  Taunton,  but  from  the  side  of 
Lowman  bridge,  a  very  small  string  of  horses,  only  two  indeed 
(counting  for  one  the  pony),  and  a  red-faced  man  on  the  bigger 
nag. 

"  Plaise  ye,  worshipful  masters,"  he  said,  being  feared  of  the 
gateway,  "earn  'e  tull  whur  our  Jan  Kidd  be?" 

"  Hyur  a  be,  ees  fai,  Jan  Eidd,"  answered  a  sharp  little  chap, 
making  game  of  John  Fry',?  language. 

"Zhow  un  U13,  then,"  says  John  Fry,  poking  his  whip 
through  the  bars  at  us;  '' Zhow  un  up,  and  put  tun  aowt." 

The  other  little  chaps  pointed  at  me,  and  some  began  to 
holla;  but  I  knew  what  I  was  about. 

"Oh,  John,  John,"  I  cried;  "what's  the  use  of  your  coming 
now,  and  Peggy  over  the  moors,  too,  and  it  is  so  cruel  cold  for 
her?  The  holidays  don't  begin  till  Wednesday  fortnight,  John. 
To  think  of  your  not  knowing  that !  " 

John  Fry  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle,  and  turned  his  eyes 
away  from  me ;  and  then  there  was  a  noise  in  his  throat,  like  a 
snail  crawling  on  a  window-pane. 

"  Oh,  us  knaws  that  wull  enough,  Maister  Jan;  reckon  every 
Oare-man  knaw  that,  without  go  to  skoo-ull,  like  you  doth. 
Your  moother  have  kept  arl  the  apples  up,  and  old  Betty  toorned 
the  black  puddens,  and  none  dare  set  trap  for  a  blagbird.  Arl 
for  thee,  lad;  every  bit  of  it  now  for  thee! " 

He  checked  himself  suddenly,  and  frightened  me.  I  knew 
that  John  Fry's  way  so  well. 

"  And  father,  and  father  —  oh,  how  is  father?  "  I  pushed  the 
boys  right  and  left  as  I  said  it.     "  John,  is  father  up  in  town ! 


^iV"  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  7 

He  always  used  to  come  for  me,  and  leave  nobody  else  to 
do  it." 

"Vaytlier'll  be  at  the  crooked  post,  t'other  side  o'  telling- 
house.^  Her  coodn't  lave  'ouze  by  raison  of  the  Christmas 
bakkon  comin'  on,  and  zome  o'  the  cider  welted." 

He  looked  at  the  nag's  ears  as  he  said  it;  and,  being  up  to 
John  Fry's  ways,  I  knew  that  it  was  a  lie.  And  my  heart 
fell,  like  a  lump  of  lead,  and  I  leaned  back  on  the  stay  of  tht' 
gate,  and  longed  no  more  to  fight  anybody.  A  sort  of  dull 
power  hung  over  me,  like  the  cloud  of  a  brooding  tempest,  and 
I  feared  to  be  told  anything.  I  did  not  even  care  to  stroke  the 
nose  of  my  pony  Peggy,  although  she  pushed  it  in  through  the 
rails,  where  a  square  of  broader  lattice  is,  and  sniffed  at  me, 
and  began  to  crop  gently  after  my  fingers.  But  whatever  lives 
or  dies,  business  must  be  attended  to;  and  the  principal  busi- 
ness of  good  Christians  is,  beyond  all  controversy,  to  fight  with 
one  another. 

"  Come  up,  Jack, "  said  one  of  the  boys,  lifting  me  under  the 
chin;  "he  hit  you,  and  you  hit  him,  you  know." 

"  Pay  your  debts  before  you  go, "  said  a  monitor,  striding  up 
to  me,  after  hearing  how  the  honor  lay ;  "  Eidd,  you  must  go 
through  with  it." 

"Fight,  for  the  sake  of  the  junior  first,"  cried  the  little  fel- 
low in  my  ear,  the  clever  one,  the  head  of  our  class,  who  had 
mocked  John  Fry,  and  knew  all  about  the  aorists,  and  tried  to 
make  me  know  it;  but  I  never  went  more  than  three  places  up, 
and  then  it  was  an  accident,  and  I  came  down  after  dinner. 
The  boys  were  urgent  round  me  to  fight,  though  my  stomach 
was  not  up  for  it;  and  being  very  slow  of  wit  (which  is  not 
chargeable  on  me),  I  looked  from  one  to  other  of  them,  seek- 
ing any  cure  for  it.  Not  that  I  was  afraid  of  fighting,  for  noAv 
I  had  been  three  years  at  Blundell's,  and  foughten,  all  that 
time,  a  fight  at  least  once  every  week,  till  the  boys  began  to 
know  me ;  only  that  the  load  on  my  heart  was  not  sprightly  as 
of  the  hay -field.  It  is  a  very  sad  thing  to  dwell  on;  but  even 
now,  in  my  time  of  wisdom,  I  doubt  it  is  a  fond  thing  to  imag- 
ine, and  a  motherly  to  insist  upon,  that  boys  can  do  without 
fighting.  Unless  they  be  very  good  boys,  and  afraid  of  one 
another. 

"Nay,"  I  said,  with  my  back  against  the  wrought-iron  stay 
of  the  gate,  which  was  socketed  into  Cop's  house-front;  "I 

^  The  "telling-houses  "  on  the  moor  are  rude  cots  where  the  shepherds 
meet,  to  "tell "  their  sheep  at  the  end  of  the  pasturing  season. 


8  LORN  A   DOONE. 

will  not  fight  thee  now,  Eobin  Snell,  but  wait  till  I  come  back 
again." 

"Take  coward's  blow,  Jack  Eidd,  then,"  cried  half-a-dozen 
little  boys,  shoving  Bob  Snell  forward  to  do  it;  because  they 
all  knew  well  enough,  having  striven  with  me  ere  now,  and 
proved  me  to  be  their  master,  —  they  knew,  I  say,  that  without 
great  change,  I  would  never  accept  that  contumely.  But  I  took 
little  heed  of  them,  looking  in  dull  wonderment  at  John  Fry, 
and  Smiler,  and  the  blunderbuss,  and  Peggy.  John  Fry  was 
scratching  his  head,  I  could  see,  and  getting  blue  in  the  face, 
by  the  light  from  Cop's  parlor-window,  and  going  to  and  fro 
upon  Smiler,  as  if  he  were  hard  set  with  it.  And  all  the  time 
he  was  looking  briskly  from  my  eyes  to  the  fist  I  was  clench- 
ing, and  methought  he  tried  to  wink  at  me  in  a  covert  manner; 
and  then  Peggy  whisked  her  tail. 

"  Shall  I  light,  John? "  I  said  at  last;  "  I  would  an  you  had 
not  come,  John." 

"Chraist's  will  be  done;  I  zim  thee  had  better  faight,  Jan," 
he  answered,  in  a  whisper,  through  the  gridiron  of  the  gate; 
"there  be  a  dale  of  faighting  avore  thee.  -Best  wai  to  begin 
guide  taime  laike.  Wull  the  geatman  latt  me  in,  to  zee  as 
thee  hast  vair  plai,  lad?  " 

He  looked  doubtfully  down  at  the  color  of  his  cowskin  boots, 
and  the  mire  upon  the  horses,  for  the  sloughs  were  exceeding 
mucky.  Peggy,  indeed,  my  sorrel  pony,  being  lighter  of 
weight,  was  not  crusted  much  over  the  shoulders ;  but  Smiler 
(our  youngest  sledder)  had  been  well  in  over  his  withers,  and 
none  would  have  deemed  him  a  piebald,  save  of  red  mire  and 
black  mire.  The  great  blunderbuss,  moreover,  was  choked  with 
a  dollop  of  slough-cake;  and  John  Fry's  sad-colored  Sunday 
hat  was  indued  with  a  plume  of  marish-weed.  All  this  I  saw 
while  he  was  dismounting,  heavily  and  wearily,  lifting  his  leg 
from  the  saddle-cloth,  as  if  with  a  sore  crick  in  his  back. 

By  this  tiine  the  question  of  fighting  was  gone  quite  out  of 
our  own  discretion ;  for  sundry  of  the  elder  boys,  grave  and 
reverend  signors,  who  had  taken  no  small  pleasure  in  teaching 
our  hands  to  fight,  to  ward,  to  parry,  to  feign  and  counter,  to 
lunge  in  the  manner  of  sword-play,  and  the  weaker  child  to 
drop  on  one  knee,  when  no  cunning  of  fence  might  baffle  the 
onset  —  these  great  masters  of  the  art,  who  would  far  liefer 
see  us  little  ones  practise  it,  than  themselves  engage,  six  or 
seven  of  them  came  running  down  the  rounded  causeway,  hav- 
ing-heard  that  there  had  arisen  "a  snug  little  mill "  at  the 
gate.     Now  whether  that  word  hath  origin  in  a  Greek  term 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  9 

meaning  a  conflict,  as  the  best-read  boys  asseverated,  or  whether 
it  is  nothing  more  than  a  figure  of  similitude,  from  the  beating 
arms  of  a  mill,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  counties  where  are  no 
waterbrooks,  but  folk  made  bread  with  wind  —  it  is  not  for  a 
man  devoid  of  scholarship  to  determine.  Enough  that  they 
who  made  the  ring  intituled  the  scene  a  "mill,"  while  we  who 
must  be  thumped  inside  it  tried  to  rejoice  in  their  pleasantry, 
till  it  turned  upon  the  stomach. 

Moreover,  I  felt  upon  me  now  a  certain  responsibility,  a 
dutiful  need  to  maintain,  in  the  presence  of  John  Fry,  the 
manliness  of  the  Eidd  family,  and  the  honor  of  Exmoor. 
Hitherto  none  had  worsted  me,  although  in  the  three  years  of 
my  schooling  I  had  fought  more  than  threescore  battles,  and 
bedewed  with  blood  every  plant  of  grass  towards  the  middle  of 
the  Ironing-box.  And  this  success  I  owed  at  first  to  no  skill 
of  my  own,  until  I  came  to  know  better;  for  up  to  twenty  or 
thirty  fights,  I  struck  as  nature  guided  me,  no  wiser  than  a 
father-long-legs  in  the  heat  of  a  lanthorn;  but  I  had  conquered, 
partly  through  my  native  strength  and  the  Exmoor  toughness 
in  me,  and  still  more  that  I  could  not  see  when  I  had  gotten 
my  bellyful.  But  now  I  was  like  to  have  that  and  more;  for 
my  heart  was  down,  to  begin  with ;  and  then  Eobert  Snell  was 
a  bigger  boy  than  I  had  ever  encountered,  and  as  thick  in  the 
skull,  and  hard  in  the  brain,  as  even  I  could  claim  to  be. 

I  had  never  told  my  mother  a  word  about  these  frequent 
strivings,  because  she  was  soft-hearted;  neither  had  I  told  my 
father,  because  he  might  have  beaten  me.  Therefore,  behold- 
ing me  still  an  innocent-looking  child,  with  fair  curls  on  my 
forehead,  and  no  store  of  bad  language,  John  Fry  thought  this 
was  the  very  first  fight  that  ever  had  befallen  me ;  and  so  when 
they  let  him  in  at  the  gate  "with  a  message  to  the  head- 
master," as  one  of  the  monitors  told  Cop,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler 
were  tied  to  the  railings,  till  I  should  be  through  my  business, 
John  comes  up  to  me  with  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  says, 
"Doon't  thee  goo  for  to  do  it,  Jan;  doon't  thee  cloo  it,  for  gude 
now."  But  I  told  him  that  now  it  was  much  too  late  to  cry 
off;  so  he  said,  "The  Lord  be  with  thee,  Jan,  and  turn  thy 
thumb-knuckle  inwards." 

It  is  not  a  very  large  piece  of  ground  in  the  angle  of  the 
causeways,  but  quite  big  enough  to  fight  upon,  especially  for 
Christians,  who  love  to  be  cheek  by  jowl  at  it.  The  great  boys 
stood  in  a  circle  around,  being  gifted  with  strong  privilege,  and 
the  little  boys  had  leave  to  lie  flat,  and  look  through  the  legs 
of  the  great  boys.     But  while  we  were  yet  preparing,  and  the 


10  LORNA   BOONE. 

caudles  hissed  in  the  fog-cloud,  old  Phoebe,  of  more  than  four- 
score years,  whose  room  was  over  the  hall-porch,  came  hobbling 
out,  as  she  always  did,  to  mar  the  joy  of  the  conflict.  No  one 
ever  heeded  her,  neither  did  she  expect  it;  but  the  evil  was 
that  two  senior  boys  must  always  lose  the  first  round  of  the 
fight,  by  having  to  lead  her  home  again. 

I  marvel  how  Robin  Snell  felt.  Very  likely  he  thought 
nothing  of  it,  always  having  been  a  boy  of  an  hectoring  and 
unruly  sort.  But  T  felt  my  heart  go  up  and  down,  as  the  boys 
came  round  to  strip  me ;  and  greatly  fearing  to  be  beaten,  I 
blew  hot  upon  my  knuckles.  Then  pulled  I  off  my  little  cut 
jerkin,  and  laid  it  down  on  my  head  cap,  and  over  that  my 
waistcoat ;  and  a  boy  was  proud  to  take  care  of  them,  Thomas 
Hooper  was  his  name,  and  I  remember  how  he  looked  at  me. 
My  mother  had  made  that  little  cut  jerkin,  in  the  quiet  winter 
evenings,  and  taken  pride  to  loop  it  up  in  a  fashionable  way, 
and  I  was  loth  to  soil  it  with  blood,  and  good  filberds  were  in 
the  pocket.  Then  up  to  me  came  Robin  Snell  (mayor  of 
Exeter  thrice  since  that),  and  he  stood  very  square,  and  looked 
at  me,  and  I  lacked  not  h^ng  to  look  at  him.  Round  his  waist 
he  had  a  kerchief,  busking  up  his  small-clothes,  and  on  his  feet 
light  pumpkin  shoes,  and  all  his  upper  raiment  off.  And  he 
danced  about,  in  a  way  that  made  my  head  swim  on  my  shoul- 
ders, and  he  stood  some  inches  over  me.  But  T,  being  muddled 
with  much  doubt  about  John  Fry  and  his  errand,  was  only 
stripped  of  my  jerkin  and  waistcoat,  and  not  comfortable  to 
begin. 

"Come  now,  shake  hands,"  cried  a  big  boy,  jumping  in  joy 
of  the  spectacle,  a  third-former  nearly  six  feet  high;  "shake 
hands,  you  little  devils.  Keep  your  pluck  up,  and  show  good 
sport,  and  Lord  love  the  better  man  of  you." 

Robin  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  gazed  at  me  disdainfully, 
and  then  smote  me  painfully  in  the  face,  ere  I  could  get  my 
fence  up. 

"Whutt  be  'bout,  lad?"  cried  John  Fry;  "hutt  un  again, 
Jan,  wull  'e?     Well  done  then,  our  Jan  boy." 

For  I  had  replied  to  Robin  now  with  all  the  weight  and 
cadence  of  penthemimeral  csesura  (a  thing,  the  name  of  which 
I  know,  but  could  never  make  head  nor  tail  of  it),  and  the 
strife  began  in  a  serious  style,  and  the  boys  looking  on  were 
not  cheated.  Although  I  could  not  collect  their  shouts  when 
the  blows  were  ringing  upon  me,  it  was  no  great  loss ;  for  John 
Fry  told  me  afterwards  that  their  oaths  went  up  like  a  furnace 
fire.     But  to  these  we  paid  no  heed  or  hap,  being  in  the  thick 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  11 

of  swinging,  and  devoid  of  judgment.  All  I  know  is,  I  came 
to  my  corner,  when  the  round  was  over,  with  very  hard  pumps 
in  my  chest,  and  a  great  desire  to  fall  away. 

"Time  is  up,"  cried  head-monitor,  ere  ever  I  got  my  breath 
again;  and  when  I  fain  would  have  lingered  awhile  on  the 
knee  of  the  boy  that  held  me.  John  Fry  had  come  up,  and  the 
boys  were  laughing  because  he  wanted  a  stable  lanthorn,  and 
threatened  to  tell  my  mother. 

"Time  is  up,"  cried  another  boy,  more  headlong  than  head- 
monitor.  "  If  we  count  three  before  the  come  of  thee,  thwacked 
thou  art,  and  must  go  to  the  women."  I  felt  it  hard  upon  me. 
He  began  to  count,  one,  two,  three  —  but  before  the  "three" 
was  out  of  his  mouth,  I  was  facing  my  foe,  with  both  hands 
up,  and  my  breath  going  rough  and  hot,  and  resolved  to  wait 
the  turn  of  it.  For  I  had  found  seat  on  the  knee  of  a  boy, 
sage  and  skilled  to  tutor  me,  who  knew  how  much  the  end  very 
often  differs  from  the  beginning.  A  rare  ripe  scholar  he  was ; 
and  now  he  hath  routed  up  the  Germans  in  the  matter  of  criti- 
cism. Sure  the  clever  boys  and  men  have  most  love  towards 
the  stupid  ones. 

"Finish  him  off.  Bob,"  cried  a  big  boy,  and  that  I  noticed 
especially,  because  I  thought  it  unkind  of  him,  after  eating  of 
my  toffee  as  he  had  that  afternoon ;  "  finish  him  off,  neck  and 
crop;  he  deserves  it  for  sticking  up  to  a  man  like  you." 

But  I  was  not  so  to  be  finished  off,  though  feeling  in  my 
knuckles  now  as  if  it  were  a  blueness  and  a  sense  of  chilblain. 
Nothing  held  except  my  legs,  and  they  were  good  to  help  me. 
So  this  bout,  or  round,  if  you  please,  was  foughten  warily  by 
me,  with  gentle  recollection  of  what  my  tutor,  the  clever  boy, 
had  told  me,  and  some  resolve  to  earn  his  praise  before  I  came 
back  to  his  knee  again.  And  never,  I  think,  in  all  my  life, 
sounded  sweeter  words  in  my  ears  (except  when  my  love  loved 
me)  than  when  my  second  and  backer,  who  had  made  himself 
part  of  my  doings  now,  and  would  have  wept  to  see  me  beaten, 
said  — 

"Famously  done,  Jack,  famously!  Only  keep  your  wind 
up.  Jack,  and  you'll  go  right  through  him !  " 

Meanwhile  John  Fry  was  prowling  about,  asking  the  boys 
what  they  thought  of  it,  and  whether  I  was  like  to  be  killed, 
because  of  my  mother's  trouble.  But  finding  now  that  I  had 
foughten  threescore  fights  already,  he  came  up  to  me  woefully, 
in  the  quickness  of  my  breathing,  while  I  sat  on  the  knee  of 
my  second,  with  a  piece  of  spongious  coralline  to  ease  me  of 
my  bloodshed,  and  he  says  in  my  ears,  as  if  he  was  clapping 
spurs  into  a  horse  — 


12  LORNA  DOONE. 

"  Never  thee  knack  under,  Jan,  or  never  coom  naigh  Hex- 
moor  no  more." 

With  that  it  was  all  up  with  me.  A  simmering  buzzed  in 
my  heavy  brain,  and  a  light  came  through  my  eye -places.  At 
once  I  set  both  fists  again,  and  my  heart  stuck  to  me  like  cob- 
bler's wax.  Either  Robin  Snell  should  kill  me,  or  I  would 
conquer  Eobin  Snell.  So  I  went  in  again,  with  my  courage  up; 
and  Bob  came  smiling  for  victory,  and  I  hated  him  for  smiling. 
He  let  at  me  with  his  left  hand,  and  I  gave  him  my  right 
between  his  eyes,  and  he  blinked,  and  was  not  pleased  with  it. 
I  feared  him  not,  and  spared  him  not,  neither  spared  myself. 
My  breath  came  again,  and  my  heart  stood  cool,  and  my  eyes 
struck  fire  no  longer.  Only  I  knew  that  I  would  die,  sooner 
than  shame  my  birthplace.  How  the  rest  of  it  was  I  know 
not ;  only  that  I  had  the  end  of  it,  and  helped  to  put  Eobin 
in  bed. 


CHAPTER   HI. 

THE    WAR-PATH    OF    THE    DOONES. 

From  Tiverton  town  to  the  town  of  Oare  is  a  very  long  and 
painful  road,  and  in  good  truth  the  traveller  must  make  his  way, 
as  the  saying  is;  for  the  way  is  still  unmade,  at  least,  on  this 
side  of  Dulverton,  although  there  is  less  danger  now  than  in 
the  time  of  my  schooling;  for  now  a  good  horse  may  go  there 
without  much  cost  of  leaping;  but  when  I  was  a  boy,  the  spurs 
would  fail,  when  needed  most,  by  reason  of  the  slough-cake. 
It  is  to  the  credit  of  this  age,  and  our  advance  upon  fatherly 
ways,  that  now  we  have  laid  down  rods  and  fagots,  and  even 
stump-oaks  here  and  there,  so  that  a  man  in  good  daylight 
need  not  sink,  if  he  be  quite  sober.  There  is  nothing  I  have 
striven  at  more  than  doing  my  duty,  way-warden  over  Exmoor. 

But  in  those  days,  Avhen  I  came  from  school  (and  good  times 
they  v/ere,  too,  full  of  a  warmth  and  fine  hearth-comfort,  which 
now  are  dying  out),  it  was  a  sad  and  sorry  business  to  find 
where  lay  the  highway.  We  are  taking  noAV  to  mark  it  off 
with  a  fence  on  either  side,  at  least,  when  a  town  is  handy; 
but  to  me  this  seems  of  a  high  pretence,  and  a  sort  of  land- 
mark and  channel  for  robbers,  though  well  enough  near  Lon- 
don, where  they  have  earned  a  race-course. 

We  left  the  town  of  the  two  fords,  which  they  say  is  the 


THE   WAR-PATH   OF  THE  DOONES.  13 

meaning  of  it,  very  early  in  the  morning,  after  lying  one  day 
to  rest,  as  was  demanded  by  the  nags,  sore  of  foot  and  foun- 
dered. For  my  part,  too,  I  was  glad  to  rest,  having  aches  all 
over  me,  and  very  heavy  bruises ;  and  we  lodged  at  the  sign  of 
the  White  Horse  Inn,  in  the  street  called  Gold  Street,  opposite 
where  the  souls  are  of  John  and  Joan  Greenway,  set  up  in  gold 
letters,  because  we  must  take  the  homeward  way  at  cockcrow 
of  the  morning.  Though  still  John  Fry  was  dry  with  me  of 
the  reason  of  his  coming,  and  only  told  lies  about  father,  and 
could  not  keep  them  agreeable,  I  hoped  for  the  best,  as  all 
boys  will,  especially  after  a  victory.  And  I  thought,  perhaps 
father  had  sent  for  me,  because  he  had  a  good  harvest,  and 
the  rats  were  bad  in  the  corn-chamber. 

It  was  high  noon  before  we  were  got  to  Dulverton  that  day, 
near  to  which  town  the  river  Exe  and  its  big  brother  Barle 
have  union.  My  mother  had  an  uncle  living  there,  but  we 
were  not  to  visit  his  house  this  time,  at  which  I  was  somewhat 
astonished,  since  we  needs  must  stop  for  at  least  two  hours, 
to  bait  our  horses  thorough  Avell,  before  coming  to  the  black 
bogway.  The  bogs  are  very  good  in  frost,  except  where  the 
hot-springs  rise;  but  as  yet  there  had  been  no  frost  this  year, 
save  just  enough  to  make  the  blackbirds  look  big  in  the  morn- 
ing. In  a  hearty  black -frost  they  look  small,  until  the  snow 
falls  over  them. 

The  road  from  Bampton  to  Dulverton  had  not  been  very 
delicate,  yet  nothing  to  complain  of  much  —  no  deeper,  indeed, 
than  the  hocks  of  a  horse,  except  in  the  rotten  places.  The 
day  was  inclined  to  be  mild  and  foggy,  and  both  nags  sweated 
freely ;  but  Peggy  carrying  little  weight  (for  my  wardrobe  was 
upon  Smiler,  and  John  Fry  grumbling  always),  we  could  easily 
keep  in  front,  as  far  as  you  may  hear  a  laugh. 

John  had  been  rather  bitter  with  me,  which  methought  was 
a  mark  of  ill-taste  at  coming  home  for  the  holidays ;  and  yet 
I  made  allowance  for  John,  because  he  had  never  been  at 
school,  and  never  would  have  chance  to  eat  fry  upon  condition 
of  spelling  it;  therefore  I  rode  on,  thinking  that  he  was  hard- 
set,  like  a  saw,  for  his  dinner,  and  would  soften  after  tooth- 
work.  And  yet  at  his  most  hungry  times,  when  his  mind  was 
far  gone  upon  bacon,  certes  he  seemed  to  check  himself  and 
look  at  me  as  if  he  were  sorry  for  little  things  coming  over 
great. 

But  now,  at  Dulverton,  we  dined  upon  the  rarest  and  choicest 
victuals  that  ever  I  did  taste.  Even,  now.  at  my  time  of  life, 
to  think  of  it  gives  me  appetite,  as  once  and  awhile  to  think 


14  LORNA   DOONE, 

of  my  first  love  makes  me  love  all  goodness.  Hot  mutton 
pasty  was  a  thing  I  had  often  heard  of  from  very  wealthy  boys 
and  men,  who  made  a  dessert  of  dinner;  and  to  hear  them  talk 
of  it  made  my  lips  smack,  and  my  ribs  come  inwards. 

And  now  John  Fry  strode  into  the  hostel,  with  the  air  and 
grace  of  a  short-legged  man,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  if  he  was 
calling  sheep  upon  Exmoor  — 

"  Hot  mootton  pasty  for  twoo  trarv'lers,  at  number  vaive,  in 
vaive  minnits !  Dish  un  up  in  the  tin  with  the  grahvy,  zame 
as  I  hardered  last  Tuesday." 

Of  course  it  did  not  come  in  five  minutes,  nor  yet  in  ten  or 
twenty;  but  that  made  it  all  the  better  when  it  came  to  the 
real  presence;  and  the  smell  of  it  was  enough  to  make  an 
empty  man  thank  God  for  the  room  there  was  inside  him. 
Fifty  years  have  passed  me  quicker  than  the  taste  of  that 
gravy. 

It  is  the  manner  of  all  good  boys  to  be  careless  of  apparel, 
and  take  no  pride  in  adornment.  Good  lack,  if  I  see  a  boy 
make  todo  about  the  fit  of  his  crumpler,  and  the  creasing  of 
his  breeches,  and  desire  to  be  shod  for  comeliness  rather  than 
for  use,  I  cannot  'scape  the  mark  that  God  took  thought  to 
make  a  girl  of  him.  Not  so  when  they  grow  older,  and  court 
the  regard  of  the  maidens;  then  may  the  bravery  pass  from 
the  inside  to  the  outside  of  them;  and  no  bigger  fools  are  they, 
even  then,  than  their  fathers  were  before  them.  But  God  for- 
bid any  man  to  be  a  fool  to  love,  and  be  loved,  as  I  have  been. 
Else  would  he  have  prevented  it. 

When  the  mutton  pasty  was  done,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler 
had  dined  well  also,  out  I  went  to  wash  at  the  pump,  being  a 
lover  of  soap  and  water,  at  all  risk,  except  of  my  dinner.  And 
John  Fry,  who  cared  very  little  to  wash,  save  Sabbath  days  in 
his  own  soap,  and  who  had  kept  me  from  the  pump  by  threat- 
ening loss  of  the  dish,  out  he  came  in  a  satisfied  manner,  with 
a  piece  of  quill  in  his  hand,  to  lean  against  a  door-post,  and 
listen  to  the  horses  feeding,  and  have  his  teeth  ready  for 
supper. 

Then  a  lady's-maid  came  out,  and  the  sun  was  on  her  face, 
and  she  turned  round  to  go  back  again ;  but  put  a  better  face 
upon  it,  and  gave  a  trip  and  hitched  her  dress,  and  looked  at 
the  sun  full  body,  lest  the  hostlers  should  laugh  that  she  was 
losing  her  complexion.  With  a  long  Italian  glass  in  her  fingers 
very  daintily,  she  came  up  to  the  pump  in  the  middle  of  the 
yard,  where  I  was  running  th^  water  off  all  my  head  and  shoul- 
ders, and  arms,  and  some  of  my  breast  even,  and  though  I  had 


F^1 


\^       '  JBp^^-3 


I     HUMPED     FOR     HER     VERY 


HEARTILY."  —  Vol.     I.     p.     15- 


THE    WAR-PATH   OF  THE  DOONBS.  15 

glimpsed  her  through  the  sprinkle,  it  gave  me  quite  a  turn  to 
see  her,  child  as  I  was,  in  my  open  aspect.  But  she  looked  at 
me,  no  whit  abashed,  making  a  baby  of  me,  no  doubt,  as  a 
woman  of  thirty  will  do,  even  with  a  very  big  boy  when  they 
catch  him  on  a  hayrick,  and  she  said  to  me,  in  a  brazen  man- 
ner, as  if  I  had  been  nobody,  while  I  was  shrinking  behind 
the  pump,  and  craving  to  get  my  shirt  on,  —  "  Good  leetle  boy, 
come  hither  to  me.  Fine  heaven!  how  blue  your  eyes  are,  and 
your  skin  like  snow;  but  some  naughty  man  has  beaten  it 
black.  Oh,  leetle  boy,  let  me  feel  it.  Ah,  how  then  it  must 
have  hurt  you!     There  now,  and  you  shall  love  me." 

All  this  time  she  was  toucning  my  breast,  here  and  there, 
very  lightly,  with  her  delicate  brown  lingers,  and  I  understood 
from  her  voice  and  manner  tliat  she  was  not  of  this  country, 
but  a  foreigner  by  extraction.  And  then  I  was  not  so  shy  of 
her,  because  I  could  talk  better  English  than  she;  and  yet  I 
longed  for  my  jerkin,  but  liked  not  to  be  rude  to  her. 

"  If  you  please,  madam,  I  must  go.  John  Fry  is  waiting  by 
the  tapster's  door,  and  Peggy  neighing  to  me.  If  you  please, 
we  must  get  home  to-night;  and  father  Avill  be  waiting  for  me 
this  side  of  the  telling-house." 

"  There,  there,  you  shall  go,  leetle  dear,  and  perhaps  I  will 
go  after  you.  I  have  taken  much  love  of  you.  But  the 
Baroness  is  hard  to  me.  How  far  you  call  it  now  to  the  bank 
of  the  sea  at  Wash  —  Wash " 

"At  Watchett,  likely  you  mean,  madam.  Oh,  a  very  long 
way,  and  the  roads  as  soft  as  the  roads  to  Oare." 

"Oh-ah,  oh-ah,  — I  shall  remember;  that  is  the  place  where 
my  leetle  boy  live,  and  some  day  I  will  come  seek  for  him. 
Now  make  the  pump  to  flow,  my  dear,  and  give  me  the  good 
water.  The  Baroness  will  not  touch,  unless  a  nebule  be  formed 
outside  the  glass." 

I  did  not  know  what  she  meant  by  that;  yet  I  pumped  for 
her  Very  heartily,  and  marvelled  to  see  her  for  fifty  times  throw 
the  water  away  in  the  trough,  as  if  it  was  not  good  enough.  At 
last  the  water  suited  her,  with  a  likeness  of  fog  outside  the 
glass,  and  the  gleam  of  a  crystal  under  it,  and  then  she  made 
a  courtesy  to  me,  in  a  sort  of  mocking  manner,  holding  the 
long  glass  by  the  foot,  not  to  take  the  cloud  off;  and  then  she 
wanted  to  kiss  me ;  but  I  was  out  of  breath,  and  have  always 
been  shy  of  that  work,  except  when  I  come  to  offer  it;  and  so 
I  ducked  under  the  pump-handle,  and  she  knocked  her  chin 
on  the  knob  of  it;  and  the  hostlers  came  out,  and  asked 
whether  they  would  do  as  well. 


16  LORN  A   BOONE. 

Upon  this,  she  retreated  up  the  yard,  with  a  certain  dark 
dignity,  and  a  foreign  way  of  walking,  which  stopped  them  at 
once  from  going  further,  because  it  was  so  different  from  the 
fashion  of  their  sweethearts.  One  with  another  they  hung 
back,  where  half  a  cartload  of  hay  was,  and  they  looked  to  be 
sure  that  she  would  not  turn  round ;  and  then  each  one  laughed 
at  the  rest  of  them. 

Now,  up  to  the  end  of  Dulverton  town,  on  the  northward 
side  of  it,  where  the  two  new  pig-sties  be,  the  Oare  folk  and 
the  Watchett  folk  must  trudge  on  together,  until  we  come  to  a 
broken  cross,  where  a  murdered  man  lies  buried.  Peggy  and 
Smiler  went  up  the  hill,  as  if  nothing  could  be  too  much  for 
them,  after  the  beans  they  had  eaten,  and  suddenly  turning  a 
corner  of  trees,  we  happened  upon  a  great  coach  and  six  horses 
laboring  very  heavily.  John  Fry  rode  on  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  as  became  him  towards  the  quality ;  but  I  was  amazed  to 
that  degree  that,  I  left  my  cap  on  my  head,  and  drew  bridle 
without  knowing  it. 

For  in  the  front  seat  of  the  coach,  which  was  half-way  open, 
being  of  new  city-make,  and  the  day  in  want  of  air,  sate  the 
foreign  lady,  who  had  met  me  at  the  pump  and  offered  to  salute 
me.  By  her  side  was  a  little  girl,  dark-haired  and  very  won- 
derful, with  a  wealthy  softness  on  her,  as  if  she  must  have  her 
own  way.  I  could  not  look  at  her  for  two  glances,  and  she 
did  not  look  at  me  for  one,  being  such  a  little  child,  and  busy 
with  the  hedges.  But  in  the  honorable  place  sate  a  handsome 
lady,  very  warmly  dressed,  and  sweetly  delicate  of  color.  And 
close  to  her  was  a  lively  child,  two  or  it  may  be  three  years 
old,  bearing  a  white  cockade  in  his  hat,  and  staring  at  all  and 
everybody.  Kow,  he  saw  Peggy,  and  took  such  a  liking  to 
her,  that  the  lady  his  mother  —  if  so  she  were  —  was  forced  to 
look  at  my  pony  and  me.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  although  I 
am  not  of  those  who  adore  the  high  folk,  she  looked  at  us  very 
kindly,  and  with  a  sweetness  rarely  found  in  the  women  who 
milk  the  cows  for  us. 

Then  I  took  off  my  cap  to  the  beautiful  lady,  without  asking 
wherefore;  and  she  put  up  her  hand  and  kissed  it  to  me, 
thinking  perhaps,  that  I  looked  like  a  gentle  and  good  little 
boy ;  for  folk  always  called  me  innocent,  though  God  knows  I 
never  was  that.  But  now  the  foreign  lady,  or  lady's-maid,  as 
it  might  be,  who  had  been  busy  with  little  dark-eyes,  turned 
upon  all  this  going  on,  and  looked  me  straight  in  the  face.  I 
was  about  to  salute  her,  at  a  distance,  indeed,  and  not  with  the 
nicety  she  had  offered  to  me,  but,  strange  to  say,  she  stared 


THE   WAli-PATU  OF  THE  DOONES.  17 

at  my  eyes  as  if  she  had  never  seen  me  before,  neither  wished 
to  see  me  again.  At  this  I  was  so  startled,  such  things  being 
out  of  my  knowledge,  that  I  startled  Peggy  also  with  the  muscle 
of  my  legs,  and  she  being  fresh  from  stable,  and  the  mire 
scraped  off  with  cask-hoop,  broke  away  so  suddenly  that  I 
could  do  no  more  than  turn  round  and  lower  my  cap,  now  live 
months  old,  to  the  beautiful  lady.  Soon  I  overtook  John  Fry, 
and  asked  him  all  about  them,  and  how  it  was  that  we  had 
missed  their  starting  from  the  hostel.  But  John  would  never 
talk  much  till  after  a  gallon  of  cider;  and  all  that  I  could  win 
out  of  him  was  that  they  w^ere  "murdering  Papishers,"  and 
little  he  cared  to  do  with  them,  or  the  devil  as  they  came  from. 
And  a  good  thing  for  me,  and  a  providence,  that  I  was  gone 
down  Dulverton  town  to  buy  sweetstuff  for  Annie,  else  my 
stupid  head  would  have  gone  astray  with  their  great  out- 
coming. 

We  saw  no  more  of  them  after  that,  but  turned  into  the  side- 
way,  and  soon  had  the  till  of  our  hands  and  eyes  to  look  to  our 
own  going.  For  the  road  got  worse  and  worse,  until  there  was 
none  at  all,  and  perhaps  the  purest  thing  it  could  do  was  to  be 
ashamed  to  show  itself.  But  we  pushed  on  as  best  we  might, 
wdth  doubt  of  reaching  home  any  time,  except  by  special  grace 
of  God. 

The  fog  came  down  upon  the  moors  as  thick  as  ever  I  saw^ 
it;  and  there  w^as  no  sound  of  any  sort,  nor  a  breath  of  wind 
to  guide  us.  The  little  stubby  trees  that  stand  here  and 
there,  like  bushes  with  a  wooden  leg  to  them,  were  drizzled 
with  a  mass  of  w^et,  and  hung  their  points  with  dropping. 
Wherever  the  butt-end  of  a  hedgerow  came  up  from  the  hollow 
ground,  like  the  withers  of  a  horse,  holes  of  splash  were 
pocked  and  pimpled  in  the  yellow^  sand  of  coneys,  or  under  the 
dwarf  tree's  ovens.  But  soon  it  was  too  dark  to  see  that,  or 
anything  else,  I  may  say,  except  the  creases  in  the  dusk,  where 
prisoned  light  crept  up  the  valleys. 

After  awhile  even  that  was  gone,  and  no  other  comfort  left 
to  us,  except  to  see  our  horses'  heads  jogging  to  their  foot- 
steps, and  the  dark  ground  pass  below  us,  lighter  where  the 
wet  was;  and  then  the  splash,  foot  after  foot,  more  clever 
than  we  can  do  it,  and  the  orderly  jerk  of  the  tail,  and  the 
smell  of  what  a  horse  is. 

John  Fry  was  bowing  forward  with  sleep  upon  his  saddle, 
and  now  I  could  no  longer  see  the  frizzle  of  wet  upon  his  beard 
—  for  he  had  a  very  brave  one,  of  a  bright-red  color,  and 
trimmed  into  a  whale-oil  knot,  because  he  was  newly-married 


18  LORNA   DOONE. 

—  although  that  comb  of  hair  had  been  a  subject  of  some  won- 
der to  me,  whether  I,  in  God's  good  time,  should  have  the  like 
of  that,  handsomely  set  with  shining  beads,  small  above  and 
large  below,  from  the  weeping  of  the  heaven.  But  still  I  could 
see  the  jog  of  his  hat  —  a  Sunday  hat  with  a  top  to  it  —  and 
some  of  his  shoulder  boAved  out  in  the  mist,  so  that  one  could 
say,  "Hold  up,  John,"  when  Smiler  put  his  foot  in. 

"Mercy  of  God!  Where  be  us  now?"  said  John  Fry,  wak- 
ing suddenly ;  "  us  ought  to  have  passed  hold  hash,  Jan.  Zeen 
it  on  the  road,  have  'ee?" 

"No  indeed,  John;  no  old  ash.  Nor  nothing  else  to  my 
knowing;  nor  heard  nothing,  save  thee  snoring." 

"  Watt  a  vule  thee  must  be  then,  Jan ;  and  me  myzell  no 
better.     Harken,  lad,  harken !  " 

We  drew  our  horses  up  and  listened,  through  the  thick- 
ness of  the  air,  and  with  our  hands  laid  to  our  ears.  At  first 
there  was  nothing  to  hear,  except  the  panting  of  the  horses, 
and  the  trickle  of  the  eaving  drops  from  our  head-covers  and . 
clothing,  and  the  soft  sounds  of  the  lonely  night,  that  make  us 
feel,  and  try  not  to  think.  Then  there  came  a  mellow  noise, 
very  low  and  mournsome,  not  a  sound  to  be  afraid  of,  but  to 
long  to  know  the  meaning,  with  a  soft  rise  of  the  hair.  Three 
times  it  came  and  went  again,  as  the  shaking  of  a  thread  might 
pass  away  into  the  distance ;  and  then  I  touched  John  Fry  to 
know  that  there  was  something  near  me. 

"  Doon't  'e  be  a  vule,  Jan !  Vaine  moozick  as  iver  I  'eer. 
God  bless  the  man  as  made  un  doo  it." 

"Have  they  hanged  one  of  the  Doones  then,  John?" 

"Hush,  lad;  never  talk  laike  o'  thiccy.  Hang  a  Doone! 
God  knoweth,  the  King  would  hang  pretty  quick,  if  her  did." 

"Then  who  is  it  in  the  chains,  John?" 

I  felt  my  spirit  rise  as  I  asked;  for  now  I  had  crossed  Ex- 
moor  so  often  as  to  hope  that  the  people  sometimes  deserved 
it,  and  think  that  it  might  be  a  lesson  to  the  rogues  who 
unjustly  loved  the  mutton  they  were  never  born  to.  But,  of 
course,  they  were  born  to  hanging,  when  they  set  themselves  so 
high. 

"It  be  nawbody,"  said  John,  "vor  us  to  make  a  fush  about. 
Belong  to  t'other  zide  o'  the  moor,  and  come  staling  shape  to 
our  zide.  Eed  Jem  Hannaford  his  name.  Thank  God  for  him 
to  be  hanged,  lad;  and  good  cess  to  his  soul,  for  craikin'  zo." 

So  the  sound  of  the  quiet  swinging  led  us  very  modestly,  as  it 
came  and  went  on  the  wind,  loud  and  low  pretty  regularly,  even 
as  far  as  the  foot  of  the  gibbet  where  the  four  cross-ways  are. 


THE    WAR-PATH   OF   THE  DOONES.  19 

"  Vamous  job  this  here,"  cried  John,  looking  up  to  be  sure 
of  it,  because  there  were  so  many;  "here  be  my  own  nick  on 
the  post.  Eed  Jem,  too,  and  no  doubt  of  him ;  he  do  hang  so 
handsome  like,  and  his  ribs  up  laike  a  horse  a'most.  God 
bless  them  as  discoovered  the  way  to  make  a  rogue  so  useful. 
Good  naight  to  thee,  Jem,  my  lad ;  and  not  break  thy  drames 
with  the  craikin'." 

John  Fry  shook  his  bridle-arm,  and  smote  upon  Smiler  mer- 
rily, as  he  jogged  into  the  homeward  track  from  the  guiding 
of  the  body.  But  I  was  sorry  for  Eed  Jem,  and  wanted  to 
know  more  about  him,  and  whether  he  might  not  have  avoided 
tliis  miserable  end,  and  what  his  wife  and  children  thought  of 
it,  if,  indeed,  he  had  any.  But  John  would  talk  no  more  about 
it;  and  perhaps  he  was  moved  with  a  lonesome  feeling,  as  the 
creaking  sound  came  after  us. 

"Hould  thee  tongue,  lad,"  he  said  sharply;  "us  be  naigh 
the  Doone-tra.ck  now,  two  maile  from  Dunkery  Beacon  hill, 
the  haighest  place  of  Hexmoor.  So  happen  they  be  abroad 
to-naight,  us  must  crawl  on  our  belly-places,  boy." 

I  knew  at  once  what  he  meant,  —  those  bloody  Doones  of 
Bagworthy,  the  awe  of  all  Devon  and  Somerset,  outlaws, 
traitors,  murderers.  My  little  legs  began  to  tremble  to  and 
fro  upon  Peggy's  sides,  as  I  heard  the  dead  robber  in  chains 
behind  us,  and  thought  of  the  live  ones  still  in  front. 

"But,  John,"  I  whispered,  warily,  sidling  close  to  his 
saddle-bow;  "dear  John,  you  don't  think  they  will  see  us  in 
such  a  fog  as  this?" 

"Xever  God  made  vog  as  could  stop  their  eyesen,"  he  whis- 
pered in  answer,  fearfully;  "here  us  be  by  the  hollow  ground. 
Zober,  lad,  goo  zober  now,  if  thee  wish  to  see  thy  moother." 

For  I  was  inclined,  in  the  manner  of  boys,  to  make  a  run  of 
the  danger,  and  cross  the  Doone-track  at  full  speed;  to  rush 
for  it,  and  be  done  with  it.  But  even  then  I  wondered  why 
he  talked  of  my  mother  so,  and  said  not  a  word  of  father. 

We  were  come  to  a  long  deep  "  goyal,"  as  they  call  it  on  Ex- 
moor,  a  word  whose  fountain  and  origin  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with.  Only  I  know  that  when  little  boys  laughed  at  me  at  Tiv- 
erton, for  talking  about  a  "goyal,"  a  big  boy  clouted  them  on 
the  head,  and  said  that  it  was  in  Homer,  and  meant  the  hollow 
of  the  hand.  And  another  time  a  Welshman  told  me  that  it 
must  be  something  like  the  thing  they  call  a  "pant"  in  those 
parts.  Still  I  know  what  it  means  well  enough, — to  wit,  a 
long  trough  among  wild  hills,  falling  towards  the  plain  coun- 
try, rounded  at  the  bottom,  perhaps,  and  stiff,  more  than  steep, 


20  LOBNA   DOONK 

at  the  sides  of  it.     Whether  it  be  straight  or  crooked,  makes 
no  difference  to  it. 

We  rode  very  carefully  down  our  side,  and  through  the  soft 
grass  at  the  bottom,  and  all  the  while  we  listened  as  if  the  air 
was  a  speaking-trumpet.  Then  gladly  we  breasted  our  nags  to 
the  rise,  and  were  coming  to  the  comb  of  it,  when  I  heard 
something,  and  caught  John's  arm,  and  he  bent  his  hand  to 
the  shape  of  his  ear.  It  was  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  knock- 
ing up  through  splashy  ground,  as  if  the  bottom  sucked  them. 
Then  a  grunting  of  weary  men,  and  the  lifting  noise  of  stir- 
rups, and  sometimes  the  clank  of  iron  mixed  with  the  wheezy 
croning  of  leather,  and  the  blowing  of  hairy  nostrils. 

"  God's  sake.  Jack,  slip  round  her  belly,  and  let  her  go 
where  she  wull." 

As  John  Fry  whispered,  so  I  did,  for  he  was  off  Smiler  by 
this  time;  but  our  two  pads  were  too  fagged  to  go  far,  and 
began  to  nose  about  and  crop,  sniffing  more  than  they  need 
have  done.  I  crept  to  John's  side  very  softly,  with  the  bridle 
on  my  arm. 

"  Let  goo  braidle ;  let  goo,  lad.  Plaise  God  they  take  them 
for  forest-ponies,  or  they'll  zend  a  bullet  through  us." 

I  saw  what  he  meant,  and  let  go  the  bridle;  for  now  the 
mist  was  rolling  off,  and  we  were  against  the  sky-line  to  the 
dark  cavalcade  below  us.  John  lay  on  the  ground  by  a  bar- 
row of  heather,  where  a  little  gullet  was,  and  I  crept  to  him, 
afraid  of  the  noise  I  made  in  dragging  my  legs  along,  and  the 
creak  of  my  cord  breeches.  John  bleated  like  a  sheep  to  cover 
it  —  a  sheep  very  cold  and  trembling. 

Then  just  as  the  foremost  horseman  passed,  scarce  twenty 
yards  below  us,  a  puff  of  wind  came  up  the  glen,  and  the  fog 
rolled  off  before  it.  And  suddenly  a  strong  red  light,  cast  by 
the  cloud-weight  downwards,  spread  like  fingers  over  the 
moorland,  opened  the  alleys  of  darkness,  and  hung  on  the 
steel  of  the  riders. 

"Dunkery  Beacon,"  whispered  John,  so  close  into  m}^  ear, 
that  I  felt  his  lips  and  teeth  ashake;  "dursn't  fire  it  now,  no 
more  than  to  show  the  Doones  way  home  again,  since  the 
naight  as  they  went  up,  and  throwed  the  watchman  atop  of  it. 
Why,  wutt  be  'bout,  lad?     God's  sake " 

For  I  could  keep  still  no  longer,  but  wriggled  away  from  his 
arm,  and  along  the  little  gullet,  still  going  flat  on  my  breast 
and  thighs,  until  I  was  under  a  gray  patch  of  stone,  with  a 
fringe  of  dry  fern  round  it;  there  I  lay,  scarce  twenty  feet 
above  the  heads  of  the  riders,  and  I  feared  to  draw  my  breath; 
though  pione  to  do  it  with  wonder. 


THE    WAR-PATH  OF   THE  DOONES.  21 

For  now  the  beacon  was  rushing  up,  in  a  fiery  storm  to 
heaven,  and  the  form  of  its  flame  came  and  went  in  the  folds, 
and  the  heavy  sky  was  hovering.  All  around  it  was  hung 
with  red,  deep  in  twisted  columns,  and  then  a  giant  beard  of 
fire  streamed  throughout  the  darkness.  The  sullen  hills  were 
flanked  with  light,  and  the  valleys  chined  with  shadow,  and 
all  the  sombrous  moors  between  awoke  in  furrowed  anger. 

But  most  of  all,  the  flinging  fire  leaped  into  the  rocky  mouth 
of  the  glen  below  me,  where  the  horsemen  passed  in  silence, 
scarcely  deigning  to  look  round.  Heavy  men,  and  large  of 
stature,  reckless  how  they  bore  their  guns,  or  how  they  sate 
their  horses,  with  leathern  jerkins,  and  long  boots,  and  iron 
plates  on  breast  and  head,  plunder  heaped  behind  their  saddles, 
and  flagons  slung  in  front  of  them;  more  than  thirty  went 
along,  like  clouds  upon  red  sunset.  Some  had  carcases  of 
sheep  swinging  with  their  skins  on,  others  had  deer,  and  one 
had  a  child  flung  across  his  saddle-bow.  Whether  the  child 
were  dead,  or  alive,  was  beyond  my  vision,  only  it  hung  head 
doAvnwards  there,  and  must  take  the  chance  of  it.  They  had 
got  the  child,  a  very  young  one,  for  the  sake  of  the  dress,  no 
doubt,  which  they  could  not  stop  to  pull  off  from  it;  for  the 
dress  shone  bright,  where  the  fire  struck  it,  as  if  with  gold  and 
jewels.  I  longed  in  my  heart  to  know  most  sadly,  what  they 
would  do  with  the  little  thing,  and  whether  they  would  eat  it. 

It  touched  me  so  to  see  that  child,  a  prey  among  those  vul- 
tures, that  in  my  foolish  rage  and  burning  I  stood  up,  and 
shouted  to  them,  leaping  on  a  rock,  and  raving  out  of  all  pos- 
session. Two  of  them  turned  round,  and  one  set  his  carbine 
at  me,  but  the  other  said  it  was  but  a  pixie,  and  bade  him 
keep  his  powder.  Little  they  knew,  and  less  thought  I,  that 
the  pixie  then  before  them  would  dance  their  castle  down  one 
day. 

John  Fry,  who  in  the  spring  of  fright  had  brought  himself 
down  from  Smiler's  side,  as  if  he  were  dipped  in  oil,  now  came 
up  to  me,  danger  being  over,  cross,  and  stiff,  and  aching  sorely 
from  his  wet  couch  of  heather. 

"  Small  thanks  to  thee,  Jan,  as  my  new  waife  bain't  a  wid- 
der.  And  who  be  you  to  zupport  of  her,  and  her  son,  if  slie 
have  one?  Zarve  thee  right,  if  I  w^as  to  chuck  thee  down  into 
the  Doone-track.  Zim  thee'll  come  to  un,  zooner  or  later,  if 
this  be  the  zample  of  thee." 

And  that  w^as  all  he  had  to  say,  instead  of  thanking  God ! 
For  if  ever  born  man  was  in  a  fright,  and  ready  to  thank  God 
for  anything,  the  name  of  that  man  was  "John  Fry,"  not  more 
than  five  minutes  agone. 


22  LOttNA   DOONE. 

However,  I  answered  nothing  at  all,  except  to  be  ashamed 
of  myself;  and  soon  we  found  Peggy  and  Smiler  in  com^jany, 
well  embarked  on  the  homeward  road,  and  victualling  where 
the  grass  was  good.  Right  glad  they  were  to  see  us  again,  — 
not  for  the  pleasure  of  carrying,  but  because  a  horse  (like  a 
woman)  lacks,  and  is  better  without,  self-reliance. 

My  father  never  came  to  meet  us,  at  either  side  of  the  tell- 
ing-house, neither  at  the  crooked-post,  nor  even  at  home-lin- 
hay,  although  the  dogs  kept  such  a  noise  that  he  must  have 
heard  us.  Home-side  of  the  linhay,  and  under  the  ashen 
hedgerow,  where  father  taught  me  to  catch  blackbirds,  all  at 
once  my  heart  went  down,  and  all  my  breast  was  hollow. 
There  was  not  even  the  lanthorn  light  on  the  peg  against  the 
cow's  house,  and  nobody  said  "Hold  your  noise!  "  to  the  dogs, 
or  shouted  "Here  our  Jack  is! " 

I  looked  at  the  posts  of  the  gate,  in  the  dark,  because  they 
were  tall,  like  father,  and  then  at  the  door  of  the  harness- 
room,  where  he  used  to  smoke  his  pipe  and  sing.  Then  I 
thought  he  had  guests  perhaps  —  people  lost  upon  the  moors  — 
whom  he  could  not  leave  unkindly,  even  for  his  son's  sake. 
And  yet  about  that  I  was  jealous,  and  ready  to  be  vexed  with 
him,  when  he  should  begin  to  make  much  of  me.  And  I  felt 
in  my  pocket  for  the  new  pipe  which  I  had  brought  him  from 
Tiverton,  and  said  to  myself,  "He  shall  not  have  it  until 
to-morrow  morning." 

Woe  is  me !  I  cannot  tell.  How  I  knew  I  know  not  now  — 
only  that  I  slunk  away,  without  a  tear,  or  thought  of  weeping, 
and  hid  me  in  a  saw-pit.  There  the  timber,  over-head,  came 
like  streaks  across  me ;  and  all  I  wanted  was  to  hide,  and  none 
to  tell  me  anything. 

By  and  by,  a  noise  came  down,  as  of  woman's  weeping, 
and  there  my  mother  and  sister  were,  choking  and  holding 
together.  Although  they  were  my  dearest  loves,  I  could  not 
bear  to  look  at  them,  until  they  seemed  to  want  my  help,  and 
turned  away,  that  I  might  come. 


A  RASH   VISIT.  23 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  RASH  VISIT. 

My  dear  father  had  been  killed  by  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy. 
while  riding  home  from  Porlock  market,  on  the  Saturday  even- 
ing. With  him  were  six  brother-farmers,  all  of  them  very 
sober;  for  father  would  have  no  company  with  any  man  who 
went  beyond  half-a-galion  of  beer,  or  a  single  gallon  of  cider. 
The  robbers  had  no  grudge  against  him;  for  he  had  never 
flouted  them,  neither  made  overmuch  of  outcry,  because  they 
robbed  other  people.  For  he  was  a  man  of  such  strict  honesty, 
and  due  parish  feeling,  that  he  knew  it  to  be  every  man's 
own  business  to  defend  himself  and  his  goods;  unless  he 
belonged  to  our  parish,  and  then  we  must  look  after  him. 

These  seven  farmers  were  jogging  along,  helping  one 
another  in  the  troubles  of  the  road,  and  singing  goodly  hymns 
and  songs,  to  keep  their  courage  moving,  when  suddenly  a 
horseman  stopped  in  the  starlight  full  across  them. 

By  dress  and  arms  they  knew  him  well,  and  by  his  size  and 
stature,  shown  against  the  glimmer  of  the  evening  star;  and 
though  he  seemed  one  man  to  seven,  it  was  in  truth  one  man 
to  one.  Of  the  six  who  had  been  singing  songs  and  psalms, 
about  the  power  of  God,  and  their  own  regeneration  —  such 
psalms  as  went  the  round,  in  those  days,  of  the  public-houses 
—  there  was  not  one  but  pulled  out  his  money,  and  sang 
small  beer  to  a  Doone. 

But  father  had  been  used  to  think,  that  any  man,  Avho  was 
comfortable  inside  his  own  coat  and  waistcoat,  deserved  to 
have  no  other  set,  unless  he  would  strike  a  blow  for  them. 
And  so,  while  his  gossips  doffed  their  hats,  and  sliook  with 
what  was  left  of  them,  he  set  his  staff  above  his  head,  and 
rode  at  the  Doone  robber.  With  a  trick  of  his  horse,  the  wild 
man  escaped  the  sudden  onset;  although  it  must  have  amazed 
him  sadly,  that  any  durst  resist  him.  Then  Mdien  Smiler  was 
carried  away  with  the  dash  and  the  weight  of  my  father  (not 
being  brought  up  to  battle,  nor  used  to  turn,  save  in  plough 
harness),  the  outlaw  whistled  upon  his  thumb,  and  plundered 
the  rest  of  the  yeomen.  But  father,  drawing  at  Smiler's  head, 
to  try  to  come  back  and  help  them,  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dozen 
men,  who  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  turf-rick,  some  on  horse, 
and  some  a-foot.     Nevertheless,  he  smote  lustily,  so  far  as  he 


24  LOBNA   DOONE. 

could  see;  and  being  of  great  size  and  strength,  and  his  blood 
well  up,  they  had  no  easy  job  with  him.  AVith  the  play  of  his 
wrist,  he  cracked  three  or  four  crowns,  being  always  famous 
at  single-stick;  until  the  rest  drew  their  horses  away,  and  he 
thought  that  he  was  master,  and  would  tell  his  wife  about  it. 

But  a  man  beyond  the  range  of  staff  was  crouching  by  the 
peat-stack,  with  a  long  gun  set  to  his  shoulder,  and  he  got  poor 
father  against  the  sky,  and  I  cannot  tell  the  rest  of  it.  Only 
they  knew  that  Smiler  came  home,  with  blood  upon  his 
withers,  and  father  was  found  in  the  morning  dead  on  the 
moor,  with  his  ivy-twisted  cudgel  lying  broken  under  him. 
Now,  whether  this  were  an  honest  hght,  God  judge  betwixt 
the  Doones  and  me. 

It  was  more  of  woe  than  wonder,  being  such  days  of  vio- 
lence, that  mother  knew  herself  a  Avidow,  and  her  children 
fatherless.  Of  children  there  were  only  three,  none  of  us  fit 
to  be  useful  yet,  only  to  comfort  mother,  by  making  her  to 
w^ork  for  us.  I,  John  Eidd,  was  the  eldest,  and  felt  it  a  heavy 
thing  on  me;  next  came  sister  Annie,  with  about  two  years 
between  us ;  and  then  the  little  Eliza. 

Now,  before  I  got  home  and  found  my  sad  loss  —  and  no 
boy  ever  loved  his  father  better  than  I  loved  mine  —  mother 
had  done  a  most  wondrous  thing,  which  made  all  the  neigh- 
bors say  that  she  must  be  mad,  at  least.  Upon  the  Monday 
morning,  while  her  husband  lay  unburied,  she  cast  a  white 
hood  over  her  hair,  and  gathered  a  black  cloak  round  her,  and, 
taking  counsel  of  no  one,  set  off  on  foot  for  the  Doone-gate. 

In  the  early  afternoon  she  came  to  the  hollow  and  barren 
entrance ;  where  in  truth  there  was  no  gate,  only  darkness  to 
go  through.  If  I  get  on  with  this  story,  I  shall  have  to  tell  of 
it  by  and  by,  as  I  saw  it  afterwards ;  and  will  not  dwell  there 
now.  Enough  that  no  gun  was  fired  at  her,  only  her  eyes 
were  covered  over,  and  somebody  led  her  by  the  hand,  without 
any  wish  to  hurt  her. 

A  very  rough  and  headstrong  road  was  all  that  she  remem- 
bered, for  she  could  not  think  as  she  wished  to  do,  with  the 
cold  iron  pushed  against  her.  At  the  end  of  this  road  they 
delivered  her  eyes,  and  she  could  scarce  believe  them. 

For  she  stood  at  the  head  of  a  deep  green  valley,  carved 
from  out  the  mountains  in  a  perfect  oval,  with  a  fence  of  sheer 
rock  standing  round  it,  eighty  feet  or  a  hundred  high ;  from 
whose  brink  black  wooded  hills  swept  up  to  the  sky-line.  By 
her  side  a  little  river  glided  out  from  underground  with  a  soft 
dark  babble,    unawares   of  daylight;   then   growing  brighter, 


A   RASH  VISIT.  25 

lapsed  away,  and  fell  into  the  valley.  There,  as  it  ran  down 
the  meadow,  alders  stood  on  either  marge,  and  grass  was 
blading  out  upon  it,  and  yellow  tufts  of  rushes  gathered,  look- 
ing at  the  hurry.  But  further  down,  on  either  bank,  were 
covered  houses,  built  of  stone,  square  and  roughly  cornered, 
set  as  if  the  brook  were  meant  to  be  the  street  between  them. 
Only  one  room  high  they  were,  and  not  placed  opposite  each 
other,  but  in  and  out  as  skittles  are;  only  that  the  first  of  all, 
which  proved  to  be  the  captain's,  was  a  sort  of  double  house, 
or  rather  two  houses  joined  together  by  a  plank-bridge  over 
the  river. 

Fourteen  cots  my  mother  counted,  all  very  much  of  a  pat- 
tern, and  nothing  to  choose  between  them,  unless  it  were  the 
captain's.  Deep  in  the  quiet  valley  there,  away  from  noise, 
and  violence,  and  brawl,  save  that  of  the  rivulet,  any  man 
would  have  deemed  them  homes  of  simple  mind  and  inno- 
cence. Yet  not  a  single  house  stood  there  but  was  the  home 
of  murder. 

Two  men  led  my  mother  down  a  steep  and  gliddery  stair- 
way, like  the  ladder  of  a  hay-mow;  and  thence,  from  the 
break  of  the  falling  water,  as  far  as  the  house  of  the  captain. 
And  there  at  the  door,  they  left  her  trembling,  strung  as  she 
was,  to  speak  her  mind. 

Now,  after  all,  what  right  had  she,  a  common  farmer's 
widow,  to  take  it  amiss  that  men  of  birth  thought  fit  to  kill 
her  husband  ?  And  the  Doones  were  of  very  high  birth,  as 
all  we  clods  of  Exmoor  knew;  and  we  had  enough  of  good 
teaching  now  —  let  any  man  say  the  contrary  —  to  feel  that 
all  we  had  belonged  of  right  to  those  above  us.  Therefore 
my  mother  was  half-ashamed,  that  she  could  not  help 
complaining. 

But  after  a  little  while,  as  she  said,  remembrance  of  her 
husband  came,  and  the  way  he  used  to  stand  by  her  side  and 
])ut  his  strong  arm  round  her,  and  how  he  liked  his  bacon 
fried,  and  praised  her  kindly  for  it,  —  and  so  the  tears  were 
in  her  eyes,  and  nothing  should  gainsay  them. 

A  tall  old  man,  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  came  out  with  a  bill-hook 
in  his  hand,  and  hedger's  gloves  going  up  his  arms,  as  if  he 
were  no  better  than  a  laborer  at  ditch-work.  Only  in  his 
mouth  and  eyes,  his  gait,  and  most  of  all  his  voice,  even  a 
child  could  know  and  feel,  that  here  was  no  ditch-laborer. 
Good  cause  he  has  found  since  then,  perhaps,  to  wish  that  he 
had  been  one. 

With  his  white  locks  moving  upon  his  coat,  he  stopped  and 


26  LOENA   DOONE. 

looked  down  at  my  mother,  and  she  could  not  help  herself  but 
courtesy  under  the  fixed  black  gazing. 

"  Good  woman,  you  are  none  of  us.  Who  has  brought  you 
hither  ?  Young  men  must  be  young  —  but  I  have  had  too 
much  of  this  work." 

And  he  scowled  at  my  mother,  for  her  comeliness ;  and  yet 
looked  under  his  eyelids,  as  if  he  liked  her  for  it.  But  as  for 
her,  in  the  depth  of  love-grief,  it  struck  scorn  upon  her  woman- 
hood; and  in  the  flash  she  spoke. 

"What  you  mean,  I  know  not.  Traitors!  cut-throats! 
cowards !  I  am  here  to  ask  for  my  husband. "  She  could  not 
say  any  more,  because  her  heart  was  now  too  much  for  her, 
coming  hard  in  her  throat  and  mouth ;  but  she  opened  up  her 
eyes  at  him. 

"Madam,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone  —  being  born  a  gentleman, 
although  a  very  bad  one  —  "I  crave  pardon  of  you.  My  eyes 
a.re  old,  or  I  might  have  known.  ISTow,  if  we  have  your  hus- 
band prisoner,  he  shall  go  free  without  ransom,  because  I  have 
insulted  you." 

"Sir,"  said  my  mother,  being  suddenly  taken  away  with 
sorrow,  because  of  his  gracious  manner,  "  please  to  let  me  cry 
a  bit." 

He  stood  away,  and  seemed  to  know  that  women  want  no 
help  for  that.  And  by  the  way  she  cried,  he  knew  that  they 
had  killed  her  husband.  Then,  having  felt  of  grief  himself, 
he  was  not  angry  with  her,  but  left  her  to  begin  again. 

"Loth  would  I  be,"  said  mother,  sobbing  with  her  new  red 
handkerchief,  and  looking  at  the  pattern  of  it,  "  loth  indeed. 
Sir  Ensor  Doone,  to  accuse  any  one  unfairly.  But  I  have  lost 
the  very  best  husband  God  ever  gave  to  a  woman ;  and  I  knew 
him  when  he  was  to  your  belt,  and  I  not  up  to  your  knee,  sir; 
and  never  an  unkind  word  he  spoke,  nor  stopped  me  short  in 
speaking.  All  the  herbs  he  left  to  me,  and  all  the  bacon - 
curing,  and  when  it  was  best  to  kill  a  pig,  and  how  to  treat 
the  maidens.  Not  that  I  would  ever  wish  —  oh,  John,  it 
seems  so  strange  to  me,  and  last  week  you  were  everything." 

Here  mother  burst  out  crying  again,  not  loudly,  but  turning 
quietly,  because  she  knew  that  no  one  now  would  ever  care  to 
wipe  the  tears.  And  fifty  or  a  hundred  things,  of  weekly  and 
daily  happening,  came  across  my  mother,  so  that  her  spirit 
fell,  like  slackening  lime. 

"This  matter  must  be  seen  to;  it  shall  be  seen  to  at  once," 
the  old  man  answered,  moved  a  little  in  spite  of  all  his  knowl- 
edge.    "Madam,  if  any  wrong  has  been  done,  trust  the  honor 


A   RASH   VISIT.  27 

of  a  Dooiie ;  I  will  redress  it  to  my  utmost.  Come  inside  and 
rest  yourself,  while  I  ask  about  it.  What  was  your  good  hus- 
band's name,  and  when  and  where  fell  this  mishap  ?" 

"Deary  me,"  said  mother,  as  he  sat  a  chair  for  her  very 
polite,  but  she  would  not  sit  upon  it;  "Saturday  morning  I 
was  a  wife,  sir;  and  Saturday  night  I  was  a  widow,  and  my 
children  fatherless.  My  husband's  name  was  'John  Kidd,' 
sir,  as  everybody  knows;  and  there  was  not  a  finer  or  better 
man,  in  Somerset  or  Devon.  He  was  coming  home  from  Por- 
lock  market,  and  a  new  gown  for  me  on  the  crupper,  and  a  shell 
to  put  my  hair  up,  —  oh,  John,  how  good  you  were  to  me! " 

Of  that  she  began  to  think  again,  and  not  to  believe  her 
sorrow,  except  as  a  dream  from  the  evil  one,  because  it  was  too 
bad  upon  her,  and  perhaps  she  would  awake  in  a  minute,  and 
Iier  husband  would  have  the  laugh  of  her.  And  so  she  wiped 
her  eyes  and  smiled,  and  looked  for  something. 

"Madam,  this  is  a  serious  thing,"  Sir  Ensor  Doone  said 
graciously,  and  showing  grave  concern :  "  my  boys  are  a  little 
wild,  I  know.  And  yet  1  cannot  think  that  they  would  will- 
ingly harm  any  one.  And  yet  —  and  yet,  you  do  look  sad. 
Send  Counsellor  to  me,"  he  shouted,  from  the  door  of  his 
house;  and  down  the  valley  went  the  call,  "send  Counsellor 
to  Captain." 

Counsellor  Doone  came  in,  ere  yet  my  mother  was  herself 
again ;  and  if  any  sight  could  astonish  her,  when  all  her  sense 
of  right  and  wrong  was  gone  astray  with  the  force  of  things, 
it  was  the  sight  of  the  Counsellor.  A  square-built  man  of 
enormous  strength,  but  a  foot  below  the  Doone  stature  (which 
I  shall  describe  hereafter),  he  carried  a  long  gray  beard 
descending  to  the  leather  of  his  belt.  Great  eyebrows  over- 
hung his  face,  like  ivy  on  a  pollard  oak,  and  under  them  two 
large  brown  eyes,  as  of  an  owl  when  muting.  And  he  had  a 
power  of  hiding  his  eyes,  or  showing  them  bright,  like  a  blaz- 
ing fire.  He  stood  there  with  his  beaver  off,  and  mother  tried 
to  look  at  him ;  but  he  seemed  not  to  descry  her. 

"Counsellor,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  standing  back  in  his 
height  from  him,  "  here  is  a  lady  of  good  repute " 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  only  a  woman." 

"  Allow  me,  madam,  by  your  good  leave.  Here  is  a  lady. 
Counsellor,  of  great  repute  in  this  part  of  the  country,  who 
charges  the  Doones  with  having  unjustly  slain  her  lius- 
band " 

"Murdered  him!  murdered  him!"  cried  my  mother;  "if 
ever  there  was  a  murder.     Oh,  sir!  oh,  sir!  you  know  it." 


28  LOBNA   DOONE. 

"The  perfect  right  and  truth  of  the  case  is  all  I  wish  to 
know,"  said  the  old  man,  very  loftily;  "and  justice  shall  be 
done,  madam." 

"  Oh,  I  pray  you  —  pray  you,  sirs,  make  no  matter  of  busi- 
ness of  it.     God  from  heaven,  look  on  me !  " 

"Put  the  case,"  said  the  Counsellor. 

"The  case  is  this,"  replied  Sir  Ensor,  holding  one  hand  up 
to  mother:  "This  lady's  worthy  husband  was  slain,  it  seems, 
upon  his  return  from  the  market  at  Porlock,  no  longer  ago 
than  last  Saturday  night.     Madam,  amend  me  if  I  am  wrong." 

"No  longer,  indeed,  indeed,  sir.  Sometimes  it  seems  a 
twelvemonth,  and  sometimes  it  seems  an  hour." 

"Cite  his  name,"  said  the  Counsellor,  with  his  eyes  still 
rolling  inwards.. 

"'Master  John  Ridd,'  as  I  understand.  Counsellor,  we 
have  heard  of  him  often;  a  worthy  man  and  a  peaceful  one, 
who  meddled  not  with  our  duties.  Now,  if  any  of  our  boys 
have  been  rough,  they  shall  answer  it  dearly.  And  yet  I  can 
scarce  believe  it.  For  the  folk  about  these  parts  are  apt  to 
misconceive  of  our  sufferings,  and  to  have  no  feeling  for  us. 
Counsellor,  you  are  our  record,  and  very  stern  against  us ;  tell 
us  how  this  matter  was." 

"Oh,  Counsellor!"  my  mother  cried;  "Sir  Counsellor,  you 
will  be  fair;  I  see  it  in  your  countenance.  Only  tell  me  who 
it  was,  and  set  me  face  to  face  with  him ;  and  I  will  bless  you, 
sir;  and  God  shall  bless  you,  and  my  children." 

The  square  man  with  the  long  gray  beard,  quite  unmoved 
by  anything,  drew  back  to  the  door,  and  spoke,  and  his  voice 
was  like  a  fall  of  stones  in  the  bottom  of  a  mine. 

"Few  words  will  be  enow  for  this.  Four  or  five  of  our  best- 
behaved  and  most  peaceful  gentlemen  went  to  the  little  market 
at  Porlock,  with  a  lump  of  money.  They  bought  some  house- 
hold stores  and  comforts  at  a  very  high  price,  and  pricked 
upon  the  homeward  road,  away  from  vulgar  revellers.  When 
they  drew  bridle  to  rest  their  horses,  in  the  shelter  of  a  peat- 
rick,  the  night  being  dark  and  sudden,  a  robber  of  great  size 
and  strength  rode  into  the  midst  of  them,  thinking  to  kill  or 
terrify.  His  arrogance,  and  hardihood,  at  the  first  amazed 
them,  but  they  would  not  give  up  without  a  blow  goods  which 
were  on  trust  with  them.  He  had  smitten  three  of  them 
senseless,  for  the  power  of  his  arm  was  terrible;  whereupon 
the  last  man  tried  to  ward  his  blow  with  a  pistol.  Carver, 
sir,  it  was,  our  brave  and  noble  Carver,  who  saved  the  lives 
of  his  brethren  and  his  own;  and  glad  enow  they  were  to 


J    7^ ASH   VISIT.  29 

esca])e.  Notwithstanding,  we  hoped  it  might  be  only  a  flesh- 
wound,  and  not  to  speed  him  in  his  sins." 

As  this  atrocious  tale  of  lies  turned  up  joint  by  joint  before 
her,  like  a  "devil's  coach-horse,"^  mother  was  too  much 
amazed  to  do  any  more  than  look  at  him,  as  if  the  earth  must 
open.  But  the  only  thing  that  opened  was  the  great  brown 
eyes  of  the  Counsellor,  which  rested  on  my  mother's  face, 
with  a  dew  of  sorrow,  as  he  spoke  of  sins. 

She,  unable  to  bear  them,  turned  suddenly  on  Sir  Ensor, 
and  caught  (as  she  fancied)  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  a  sense  of 
quiet  enjoyment. 

"All  the  Doones  are  gentlemen,"  answered  the  old  man, 
gravely,  and  looking  as  if  he  had  never  smiled  since  he  was 
a  baby.  "  We  are  always  glad  to  explain,  madam,  any  mis- 
take which  the  rustic  people  may  fall  upon  about  us ;  and  we 
Avish  you  clearly  to  conceive,  that  we  do  not  charge  your  poor 
husband  with  any  set  purpose  of  robbery;  neither  will  we 
bring  suit  for  any  attainder  of  his  property.  Is  it  not  so, 
Counsellor?" 

"Without  doubt  his  land  is  attainted;  unless  in  mercy  you 
forbear,  sir." 

"Counsellor,  we  will  forbear.  Madam,  we  will  forgive 
him.  Like  enough  he  knew  not  right  from  wrong,  at  that 
time  of  night.  The  waters  are  strong  at  Porlock,  and  even  an 
honest  man  may  use  his  staff  unjustly,  in  this  unchartered  age 
of  violence  and  rapine." 

The  Doones  to  talk  of  rapine!  Mother's  head  went  round 
so,  that  she  courtesied  to  them  both,  scarcely  knowing  where 
she  was,  but  calling  to  mind  her  manners.  All  the  time  she 
felt  a  warmth,  as  if  the  right  was  with  her,  and  yet  she  could 
not  see  the  way  to  spread  it  out  before  them.  With  that,  she 
dried  her  tears  in  haste,  and  went  into  the  cold  air,  for  fear  of 
speaking  mischief. 

But  when  she  was  on  the  homeward  road,  and  the  sentinels 
had  charge  of  her,  blinding  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  not  blind 
enough  with  weeping,  some  one  came  in  haste  behind  her,  and 
thrust  a  heavy  leathern  bag  into  the  limp  weight  of  her  hand. 

"Captain  sends  you  this,"  he  whispered;  "take  it  to  the 
little  ones." 

But  mother  let  it  fall  in  a  heap,  as  if  it  had  been  a  blind 
worm ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  crouched  before  God,  that 
even  the  Doones  should  pity  her. 

1  The  cock-tailed  beetle  has  earned  this  name  in  the  West  of  England. 


80  LORNA   DOONE. 

CHAPTER   V. 

AN    ILLEGAL    SETTLEMENT. 

Good  folk,  who  dwell  m  a  lawful  land,  if  any  such  there  be, 
may,  for  want  of  exploration,  judge  our  neighborhood  harshly, 
unless  the  whole  truth  is  set  before  them.  In  bar  of  such 
prejudice,  many  of  us  ask  leave  to  explain  how,  and  why,  the 
robbers  came  to  that  head  in  the  midst  of  us.  We  would  rather 
not  have  had  it  so,  and  were  wise  enough  to  lament  it;  but  it 
grew  upon  us  gently,  in  the  following  manner.  Only  let  all 
who  read  observe  that  here  I  enter  many  things  which  came  to 
my  knowledge  in  later  years. 

In  or  about  the  year  of  our  Lord  1640,  when  all  the  troubles 
of  England  were  swelling  to  an  outburst,  great  estates  in  the 
north  country  were  suddenly  confiscated,  through  some  feud  of 
families,  and  strong  influence  at  Court,  and  the  owners  were 
turned  upon  the  world,  and  might  think  themselves  lucky  to 
save  their  necks.  These  estates  were  in  co-heirship,  joint 
tenancy  I  think  they  called  it,  although  I  know  not  the  mean- 
ing, only  so  that  if  either  tenant  died,  the  other  living,  all 
would  come  to  the  live  one,  in  spite  of  any  testament. 

One  of  the  joint  owners  was  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  a  gentleman 
of  brisk  intellect;  and  the  other  owner  was  his  cousin,  the  Earl 
of  Lome  and  Dykemont. 

Lord  Lome  was  some  years  the  elder  of  his  cousin  Ensor 
Doone,  and  was  making  suit  to  gain  severance  of  the  cumber- 
some joint -tenancy,  by  any  fair  apportionment,  when  suddenly 
this  blow  fell  on  them,  by  wiles  and  woman's  meddling;  and 
instead  of  dividing  the  land,  they  were  divided  from  it. 

The  nobleman  was  still  well-to-do,  though  crippled  in  his 
expenditure ;  but  as  for  the  cousin,  he  was  left  a  beggar,  with 
many  to  beg  from  him.  He  thought  that  the  other  had 
wronged  him,  and  that  all  the  trouble  of  laAV  befell  through  his 
unjust  petition.  Many  friends  advised  him  to  make  interest 
at  Court;  for,  having  done  no  harm  whatever,  and  being  a  good 
Catholic,  which  Lord  Lome  was  not,  he  would  be  sure  to  find 
hearing  there,  and  probably  some  favor.  But  he,  like  a  very 
hot-brained  man,  although  he  had  long  been  married  to  the 
daughter  of  his  cousin  (whom  he  liked  none  the  more  for  that), 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  any  attempt  at  making  a  patch  of 
it,  but  drove  away  with  his  wife  and  sons,  and  the  relics  of  his 


^.V   ILLEGAL   SETTLEMENT.  31 

money,  swearing  hard  at  everybody.  In  this  he  may  have  been 
quite  wrong;  probably,  perhaps  he  was  so;  but  I  am  not  con- 
vinced at  all,  but  what  most  of  us  would  have  done  the  same. 

Some  say  that,  in  the  bitterness  of  that  WTong  and  outrage, 
he  slew  a  gentleman  of  the  Court,  whom  he  supposed  to  have 
borne  a  hand  in  the  plundering  of  his  fortunes.  Others  say 
that  he  bearded  King  Charles  the  First  himself,  in  a  manner 
beyond  forgiveness.  One  thing,  at  any  rate,  is  sure  —  Sir 
Ensor  was  attainted,  and  made  a  felon  outlaw,  through  some 
violent  deed  ensuing  upon  his  dispossession. 

He  had  searched  in  many  quarters  for  somebody  to  help  him, 
and  with  good  warrant  for  hoping  it;  inasmuch  as  he,  in  his 
lucky  days,  had  been  open-handed  and  cousinly  to  all  wdio 
begged  advice  of  him.  But  now  all  these  provided  him  w^ith 
plenty  of  good  advice  indeed,  and  great  assurance  of  feeling, 
but  not  a  movement  of  leg,  or  lip,  or  purse-string  in  his  favor. 
All  good  people  of  either  persuasion,  royalty  or  commonalty, 
knowing  his  kitchen-range  to  be  cold,  no  longer  would  play 
turnspit.  And  this,  it  may  be,  seared  his  heart,  more  than 
the  loss  of  land  and  fame. 

In  great  despair  at  last,  he  resolved  to  settle  in  some  out- 
landish part,  where  none  could  be  found  to  know  him ;  and  so, 
in  an  evil  day  for  us,  he  came  to  the  West  of  England.  Xot 
that  our  part  of  the  world  is  at  all  outlandish,  according  to  my 
view  of  it  (for  I  never  found  a  better  one),  but  that  it  was 
known  to  be  rugged  and  large,  and  desolate.  And  here,  when 
lie  had  discovered  a  place  which  seemed  almost  to  be  made  for 
him,  so  withdrawn,  so  self -defended,  and  uneasy  of.  access, 
some  of  the  country-folk  around  brought  him  little  offerings 
—  a  side  of  bacon,  a  keg  of  cider,  hung  mutton,  or  a  brisket  of 
venison;  so  that  for  a  little  while  he  w^as  very  honest.  But 
when  the  newness  of  his  coming  began  to  wear  away,  and  our 
good  folk  were  apt  to  think,  that  even  a  gentleman  ought  to 
work,  or  pay  other  men  for  doing  it,  and  many  farmers  were 
grown  weary  of  manners  without  discourse  to  them,  and  all 
cried  out  to  one  another,  how  unfair  it  was  that  owning  such  a 
fertile  valley,  young  men  would  not  spade  or  plough  by  reason 
of  noble  lineage  —  then  the  young  Doones,  growing  up,  took 
things  they  would  not  ask  for. 

And  here  let  me,  as  a  solid  man,  owner  of  five  hundred  acres 
(whether  fenced  or  otherwise,  and  that  is  my  own  business), 
churchwarden  also  of  this  parish  (until  I  go  to  the  churchyard), 
and  proud  to  be  called  the  parson's  friend  —  for  a  better  man 
I  never  knew  with  tobacco  and  strong  waters,  nor  one  who 


32  LORNA   DOONE. 

could  read  the  lessons  so  well,  and  he  has  been  at  BluiidelPs 
too  —  once  for  all  let  me  declare  that  I  am  a  thorough-going 
Church-and-State  man,  and  Koyalist,  without  any  mistake 
about  it.  And  this  I  lay  down,  because  some  people,  judging 
a  sausage  by  the  skin,  may  take  in  evil  part  my  little  glosses 
of  style  and  glibness,  and  the  mottled  nature  of  my  remarks, 
and  cracks  now  and  then  on  the  frying-pan.  I  assure  them  I 
am  good  inside,  and  not  a  bit  of  rue  in  me ;  only  queer  knots, 
as  of  marjoram,  and  a  stupid  manner  of  bursting. 

There  was  not  more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  counting  a  few 
retainers,  who  still  held  by  Sir  Ensor;  but  soon  they  grew  and 
multiplied  in  a  manner  surprising  to  think  of.  Whether  it 
was  the  venison,  which  we  call  a  strengthening  victual,  or 
whether  it  was  the  Exmoor  mutton,  or  the  keen  soft  air  of  the 
moorlands,  anyhow  the  Doones  increased  much  faster  than 
their  honesty.  At  first  they  had  brought  some  ladies  with 
them,  of  good  repute  with  charity;  and  then,  as  time  went  on, 
they  added  to  their  stock  by  carrying.  They  carried  off  many 
good  farmers'  daughters,  who  were  sadly  displeased  at  first ; 
but  took  to  them  kindly  after  awhile,  and  made  a  new  home  in 
their  babies.  For  women,  as  it  seems  to  me,  like  strong  men 
more  than  weak  ones,  feeling  that  they  need  some  staunchness, 
something  to  hold  fast  by. 

And  of  all  the  men  in  our  country,  although  we  are  of  a 
thickset  breed,  you  scarce  could  find  one  in  threescore  fit  to 
be  placed  among  the  Doones,  without  looking  no  more  than  a 
tailor.  Like  enough,  we  could  meet  them,  man  for  man  (if  we 
chose  all  around  the  crown  and  the  skirts  of  Exmoor),  and  show 
them  what  a  cross-buttock  means,  because  we  are  so  stuggy: 
but  in  regard  of  stature,  comeliness,  and  bearing,  no  woman 
would  look  twice  at  us.  Not  but  what  I  myself,  John  Ridd, 
and  one  or  two  I  know  of  —  but  it  becomes  me  best  not  to  talk 
of  that,  although  my  hair  is  gray. 

Perhaps  their  den  might  well  have  been  stormed,  and  them- 
selves driven  out  of  the  forest,  if  honest  people  had  only  agreed 
to  begin  with  them  at  once,  when  first  they  took  to  plundering. 
But  having  respect  for  their  good  birth,  and  pity  for  their  mis- 
fortunes, and  perhaps  a  little  admiration  at  the  justice  of  God, 
that  robbed  men  now  were  robbers,  the  squires,  and  farmers, 
and  shepherds,  at  first  did  nothing  more  than  grumble  gently, 
or  even  make  a  laugh  of  it,  each  in  the  case  of  others.  After 
awhile  they  found  the  matter  gone  too  far  for  laughter,  as  vio- 
lence and  deadly  outrage  stained  the  hand  of  robbery,  until 
every  woman  clutched  her  child,  and  every  man  turned  pale  at 


AN  ILLEGAL    SETTLEMENT.  33 

the  very  name  of  "Doone."  For  the  sons,  and  grandsons,  of 
Sir  Ensor,  grew  up  in  foul  liberty,  and  haughtiness,  and 
hatred,  to  utter  scorn  of  God  and  man,  and  brutality  towards 
dumb  animals.  There  was  only  one  good  thing  about  them,  if 
indeed  it  were  good,  to  wit,  their  faith  to  one  another,  and 
truth  to  their  wild  eyry.  But  this  only  made  them  feared  the 
more,  so  certain  was  the  revenge  they  wreaked  upon  any  who 
dared  to  strike  a  Doone.  One  night,  soon  after  I  was  born, 
when  they  were  sacking  a  rich  man's  house,  not  very  far  from 
Mineheacl,  a  shot  was  fired  at  them  in  the  dark,  of  which  they 
took  little  notice,  and  only  one  of  them  knew^  that  any  harm 
was  done.  But  when  they  were  well  on  the  homeward  road, 
not  having  slain  either  man  or  woman,  or  even  burned  a  house 
down,  one  of  their  number  fell  from  his  saddle,  and  died  with- 
out so  much  as  a  groan.  The  youth  had  been  struck,  but  would 
not  complain,  and  perhaps  took  little  heed  of  the  wound,  while 
he  was  bleeding  inwardly.  His  brothers  and  cousins  laid  him 
softly  on  a  bank  of  whortle-berries,  and  just  rode  back  to  the 
lonely  hamlet,  where  he  had  taken  his  death-wound.  No  man, 
nor  woman,  was  left  in  the  morning,  nor  house  for  any  to  dwell 
in,  only  a  child  with  its  reason  gone.^ 

This  affair  made  prudent  people  find  more  reasons  to  let 
them  alone,  than  to  meddle  with  them;  and  now  they  had  so 
entrenched  themselves,  and  waxed  so  strong  in  number,  that 
nothing  less  than  a  troop  of  soldiers  could  wisely  enter  their 
premises;  and  even  so  it  might  turn  out  ill,  as  perchance  we 
shall  see  by  and  by. 

For  not  to  mention  the  strength  of  the  place,  which  I  shall 
describe  in  its  proper  order,  when  I  come  to  visit  it,  there 
was  not  one  among  them  but  Avas  a  mighty  man,  straight  and 
tall,  and  wide,  and  fit  to  lift  four  hundred-weight.  If  son  or 
grandson  of  old  Doone,  or  one  of  the  northern  retainers,  failed 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  while  standing  on  his  naked  feet,  to  touch 
with  his  forehead  the  lintel  of  Sir  Ensor's  door,  and  to  fill  the 
door-frame  with  his  shoulders  from  sidepost  even  to  sidepost, 
he  was  led  away  to  the  narrow  pass,  which  made  their  valley 
so  desperate,  and  thrust  from  the  crown  with  ignominy,  to  get 
his  own  living  honestly.  Xow,  the  measure  of  that  doorwa}^ 
is,  or  rather  was,  I  ought  to  say,  six  feet  and  one  inch  length- 
wise, and  two  feet  all  but  two  inches  taken  crossways  in  the 
clear.  Yet  I  not  only  have  heard,  but  know,  being  so  closely 
mixed  with  them,  that  no  descendant  of  old  Sir  Ensor,  neither 

1  This  vile  deed  was  done,  beyond  all  doubt. 
VOL.  I.  —  3 


34  LORN  A   DOONE. 

relative  of  his  (except,  indeed,  the  Counsellor,  wlio  was  kept 
by  them  for  his  wisdom),  and  no  more  than  two  of  their  follow- 
ing, ever  failed  of  that  test,  and  relapsed  to  the  difficult  ways 
of  honesty. 

Not  that  I  think  anything  great  of  a  standard  the  like  of 
that;  for  if  they  had  set  me  in  that  door-frame  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  it  is  like  enough  that  I  should  have  walked  away  with 
it  on  my  shoulders,  though  I  was  not  come  to  my  full  strength 
then;  only  I  am  speaking  now  of  the  average  size  of  our  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  Doones  were  far  beyond  that.  Moreover, 
they  were  taught  to  shoot  with  a  heavy  carabine,  so  delicately 
and  wisely,  that  even  a  boy  could  pass  a  ball  through  a  rabbit's 
head,  at  a  distance  of  fourscore  yards.  Some  people  may 
think  nought  of  this,  being  in  practice  with  longer  shots  from 
the  tongue  than  from  the  shoulder ;  nevertheless,  to  do  as  above 
is,  to  my  ignorance,  very  good  work,  if  you  can  be  sure  to  dD 
it.  Not  one  word  do  I  believe  of  Robin  Hood  splitting  peeled 
wands  at  sevenscore  yards,  and  such  like.  Whoever  wrote 
such  stories  knew  not  how  slippery  a  peeled  wand  is,  even  if 
one  could  hit  it,  and  how  it  gives  to  the  onset.  Now,  let  him 
stick  one  in  the  ground,  and  take  his  bow  and  arrow  at  it,  ten 
yards  away,  or  even  live. 

Now,  after  all  this  which  I  have  written,  and  all  the  rest 
which  a  reader  will  see,  being  quicker  of  mind  than  I  am  (who 
leave  more  than  half  behind  me,  like  a  man  sowing  wheat,  with 
liis  dinner  laid  in  the  ditch  too  near  his  dog),  it  is  much  but 
what  you  will  understand  the  Doones,  far  better  than  I  did,  or 
do  even  to  this  moment;  and  therefore  none  will  doubt,  when 
I  tell  them  that  our  good  justitiaries  feared  to  make  an  ado,  or 
hold  any  public  enquiry  about  my  dear  father's  death.  They 
would  all  have  had  to  ride  home  at  night  and  who  could  say 
what  might  betide  them?  Least  said  soonest  mended,  because 
less  chance  of  breaking. 

So  we  buried  him  quietly  —  all  except  my  mother,  indeed, 
for  she  could  not  keep  silence  —  in  the  sloping  little  church- 
yard of  Oare,  as  meek  a  place  as  need  be,  with  the  Lynn  brook 
down  below  it.  There  is  not  much  of  company  there  for  any- 
body's tombstone,  because  the  parish  spreads  so  far  in  woods, 
and  moors,  without  dwelling  house.  If  we  bury  one  man  in 
three  years,  or  even  a  woman  or  child,  we  talk  about  it  for 
three  months,  and  say  it  must  be  our  turn  next,  and  scarcely 
grow  accustomed  to  it,  until  we  hear  of  another  gone. 

Annie  was  not  allowed  to  come,  because  she  cried  so  terribly ; 
but  she  ran  to  the  window,  and  saw  it  all,  mooing  there  like  a 


NECESSARY  PRACTICE.  35 

little  calf,  so  frightened  and  so  left  alone.  As  for  Eliza,  she 
came  with  me,  one  on  each  side  of  mother,  and  not  a  tear  was 
in  her  eyes,  but  sudden  starts  of  wonder,  and  a  new  thing  to  be 
looked  at  unwillingly,  yet  curiously.  Poor  little  thing!  she 
was  very  clever,  the  only  one  of  our  family  —  thank  God  for 
the  same  —  but  none  the  more  for  that  guessed  she  what  it  is 
to  lose  a  father. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

NECESSARY    PRACTICE. 

About  the  rest  of  all  that  winter  I  remember  very  little, 
being  only  a  young  boy  then,  and  missing  my  father  most  out 
of  doors ;  as  when  it  came  to  the  bird-catching,  or  the  tracking 
of  hares  in  the  snow,  or  the  training  of  a  sheep-dog.  Often- 
times I  looked  at  his  gun,  an  ancient  piece  found  in  the  sea,  a 
little  below  Glenthorne,  and  of  which  he  was  mighty  proud, 
although  it  was  only  a  match-lock ;  and  I  thought  of  the  times 
I  had  held  the  fuze,  while  he  got  his  aim  at  a  rabbit,  and  once 
even  at  a  red  deer  rubbing  among  the  hazels.  But  nothing 
came  of  my  looking  at  it,  so  far  as  I  remember,  save  foolish 
tears  of  my  own  perhaps ;  till  John  Fry  took  it  down  one  day, 
from  the  hooks  where  father's  hand  had  laid  it;  and  it  hurt 
me  to  see  how  John  handled  it,  as  if  he  had  no  memory. 

"  Bad  job  for  he,  as  her  had  not  got  thiccy,  the  naight  as  her 
coom  acrass  them  Doones.  Rackon  Varmer  Jan  'ood  a-zhown 
them  the  wai  to  kingdom  come,  'stead  of  going  herzell  zo  aisy. 
And  a  maight  have  been  gooin'  to  market  now,  'stead  of  laying 
banked  up,  over  yanner.  Maister  Jan,  thee  can  zee  the  grave 
if  thee  look  alang  this  here  goon-barryel.  Buy  now,  whutt  be 
IJubberin'  at  ?     Wish  I  had  never  told  thee." 

"John  Fry,  I  am  not  blubbering;  you  make  a  great  mistake, 
John.  You  are  thinking  of  little  Annie.  I  cough  sometimes 
in  the  winter-weather,  and  father  gives  me  lickerish.  I  mean 
—  I  mean  —  he  used  to.     Now  let  me  have  the  gun,  John." 

"Thee  have  the  goon,  Jan!  Thee  isn't  fit  to  putt  un  to  thy 
zhoulder.     What  a  weight  her  be,  for  sure !  " 

"  Me  not  hold  it,  John !  That  shows  how  much  you  know 
about  it.  Get  out  of  the  way,  John ;  you  are  opposite  the  mouth 
of  it,  and  likely  it  is  loaded." 

Jolm  Fry  jumped,  in  a  livelier  manner  than  when  he  was 


36  LOBNA  LOONE. 

doing  day-work;  and  I  rested  the  mouth  on  a  cross  rack -piece, 
and  felt  a  warm  sort  of  surety  that  I  could  hit  the  door  over 
opposite,  or  at  least,  the  cob  wall  alongside  of  it,  and  do  no 
harm  in  the  orchard.  But  John  would  not  give  me  link  or 
fuze,  and,  on  the  Avhole,  I  was  glad  of  it,  though  carrying  on  as 
boys  do;  because  I  had  heard  my  father  say  that  the  Spanish 
gun  kicked  like  a  horse,  and  because  the  load  in  it  came  from 
his  hand,  and  I  did  not  like  to  undo  it.  But  I  never  found  it 
kick  very  hard,  when  firmly  set  to  the  shoulder,  unleiss  it  was 
badly  loaded.  In  truth  the  thickness  of  the  metal  was  enough 
almost  to  astonish  one ;  and  what  our  people  said  about  it  may 
have  been  true  enough,  although  most  of  them  are  such  liars 
—  at  least,  I  mean  they  make  mistakes,  as  all  mankind  must 
do.  Perchance  it  was  no  mistake  at  all,  to  say  that  this  ancient 
gun  had  belonged  to  some  noble  Spaniard,  the  captain  of  a  fine 
large  ship  in  the  "Invincible  Armada,"  which  we  of  England 
managed  to  conquer,  with  God  and  the  weather  helping  us,  a 
hundred  years  ago  or  more  —  I  can't  say  to  a  month  or  so. 

After  a  little  while,  when  John  had  fired  away  at  a  rat  the 
charge  I  held  so  sacred,  it  came  to  me  as  a  natural  thing  to 
practise  shooting  with  that  great  gun,  instead  of  John  Fry's 
blunderbuss,  Avhich  looked  like  a  bell  with  a  stalk  to  it.  Per- 
haps for  a  boy  there  is  nothing  better  than  a  good  windmill  to 
shoot  at,  as  I  have  seen  them  in  flat  countries ;  but  we  have  no 
windmills  upon  the  great  moorland,  yet  here  and  there  a  few 
barn-doors,  where  shelter  is,  and  a  way  up  the  hollows.  And 
up  those  hollows  you  can  shoot,  with  the  help  of  the  sides  to 
lead  your  aim,  and  there  is  a  fair  chance  of  hitting  the  door, 
if  you  lay  your  cheek  to  the  barrel,  and  try  not  to  be  afraid  of  it. 

Gradually  I  won  such  skill,  that  I  sent  nearly  all  the  lead 
gutter  from  the  north  porch  of  our  little  church  through  our 
best  barn-door,  a  thing  which  has  often  repented  me  since, 
especially  as  churchwarden,  and  made  me  pardon  many  bad 
boys;  but  father  was  not  buried  on  that  side  of  the  church. 

But  all  this  time,  while  I  was  roving  over  the  hills,  or  about 
the  farm,  and  even  listening  to  John  Pry,  my  mother,  being  so 
much  older,  and  feeling  trouble  longer,  went  about  inside  the 
house,  or  among  the  maids  and  fowls,  not  caring  to  talk  to  the 
best  of  them,  except  when  she  broke  out  sometimes  about 
the  good  master  they  had  lost,  all,  and  every  one  of  us.  But 
the  fowls  would  take  no  notice  of  it,  except  to  cluck  for  barley ; 
and  the  maidens,  though  they  had  liked  him  well,  were  think- 
ing of  their  sweethearts,  as  the  spring  came  on.  Mother 
thought  it  wrong  of  them,  selfish,  and  ungrateful;   and  yet 


NECESSABY  PRACTICE.  37 

sometimes  she  was  proud  that  none  had  such  call  as  herself  to 
grieve  for  him.  Only  Annie  seemed  to  go  softly  in  and  out, 
and  cry,  with  nobody  along  of  her,  chiefly  in  the  corner  where 
the  bees  are,  and  the  grindstone.  But  somehow  she  would 
never  let  anybody  behold  her;  being  set,  as  you  may  say,  to 
think  it  over  by  herself,  and  season  it  with  weeping.  Many 
times  I  caught  her,  and  many  times  she  turned  upon  me ;  and 
then  I  could  not  look  at  her,  but  asked  how  long  to  dinner-time. 

Xow  in  the  depth  of  the  winter  month,  such  as  we  call  Decem- 
ber; father  being  dead  and  quiet  in  his  grave  a  fortnight,  it 
happened  me  to  be  out  of  powder,  for  practice  against  his 
enemies.  I  had  never  fired  a  shot  without  thinking,  "  This 
for  father's  murderer;  "  and  John  Fry  said  that  I  made  such 
faces,  it  was  a  wonder  the  gun  went  off.  But  though  I  could 
hardly  hold  the  gun,  unless  with  my  back  against  a  bar,  it  did 
me  good  to  hear  it  go  off,  and  hope  to  have  hitten  his  enemies. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,"  I  said  that  day,  directly  after  dinner, 
while  she  was  sitting  looking  at  me,  and  getting  ready  to  say 
(as  now  she  did  seven  times  in  a  week),  "  How  like  your  father 
you  are  growing!  Jack,  come  here  and  kiss  me,"  —  "oh, 
mother,  if  you  only  knew,  how  much  I  want  a  shilling !  " 

"  Jack,  you  shall  never  want  a  shilling,  while  I  am  alive  to 
give  thee  one.     But  what  is  it  for,  dear  heart,  dear  heart?" 

"  To  buy  something  over  at  Porlock,  mother.  Perhaps  I  will 
tell  you  afterwards.  If  I  tell  not,  it  will  be  for  your  good, 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  children." 

"  Bless  the  boy,  one  would  think  he  was  threescore  years  of 
age  at  least.  Give  me  a  little  kiss,  you  Jack,  and  you  shall 
have  the  shilling."  • 

For  I  hated  to  kiss,  or  be  kissed,  in  those  days ;  and  so  all 
honest  boys  must  do,  when  God  puts  any  strength  in  them. 
But  now  I  wanted  the  powder  so  much,  that  I  went  and  kissed 
mother,  very  shyly,  looking  round  the  corner  first,  for  Betty 
not  to  see  me. 

But  mother  gave  me  half-a-dozen,  and  only  one  shilling  for 
all  of  them ;  and  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  ask  her  for 
another,  although  I  would  have  taken  it.  In  very  quick  time, 
I  ran  away  with  the  shilling  in  my  pocket,  and  got  Peggy  out 
on  the  Porlock  road,  without  my  mother  knowing  it.  For 
mother  was  frightened  of  that  road  now,  as  if  all  the  trees  were 
murderers,  and  would  never  let  me  go  alone  so  much  as  a  hun- 
dred yards  on  it.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  touched  with 
fear  for  many  years  about  it ;  and  even  now,  when  I  ride  at 
dark  there,  a  man  by  a  peat-rick  makes  me  shiver,  until  I  go 


38  LOBNA   BOONE. 

and  collar  him.  But  this  time  I  was  very  bold,  having  John 
Fry's  blunderbuss,  and  keeping  a  sharp  look-out  wherever  any 
lurking-place  was.  However,  I  saw  only  sheep,  and  small  red 
cattle,  and  the  common  deer  of  the  forest,  until  I  was  nigh  to 
Porlock  town,  and  then  rode  straight  to  Mr.  Pooke's,  at  the 
sign  of  the  Spit  and  Gridiron. 

Mr.  Pooke  was  asleep,  as  it  happened,  not  having  much  to 
do  that  day ;  and  so  I  fastened  Peggy  by  the  handle  of  a  warm- 
ing-pan, at  which  she  had  no  better  manners  than  to  snort  and 
blow  her  breath ;  and  in  1  walked  with  a  manful  style,  bearing 
John  Pry's  blunderbuss.  Xow  Timothy  Pooke  was  a  peaceful 
man,  glad  to  live  without  any  enjoyment  of  mind  at  danger, 
and  I  was  tall  and  large  already,  as  most  lads  of  a  riper  age. 
Mr.  Pooke,  as  soon  as  he  opened  his  eyes,  dropped  suddenly 
under  the  counter-board,  and  drew  a  great  frying-pan  over  his 
head,  as  if  the  Doones  Avere  come  to  rob  him,  as  their  custom 
was,  mostly  after  the  fair-time.  It  made  me  feel  rather  hot 
and  queer,  to  be  taken  for  a  robber ;  and  yet  methinks  I  was 
proud  of  it. 

"  Gadzooks,  Master  Pooke, "  said  I,  having  learned  fine  words 
at  Tiverton ;  "  do  you  suppose  that  I  know  not  then  the  way  to 
carry  firearms?  An  it  were  the  old  Spanish  match-lock,  in 
the  lieu  of  this  good  flint-engine,  which  may  be  borne  ten  miles 
or  more,  and  never  once  go  off,  scarcely  couldst  thou  seem  more 
scared.  I  might  point  at  thee,  muzzle  on  —  just  so  as  I  do 
now  —  even  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  like  enough  it  Avould 
never  shoot  thee,  unless  I  pulled  the  trigger  hard,  with  a  crook 
upon  my  finger;  so,  you  see;  just  so.  Master  Pooke,  only  a 
trifle  harder." 

"  God  sake,  John  Eidd,  God  sake,  dear  boy,  "cried  Pooke,  know- 
ing me  by  this  time ;  "  don't  'e,  for  good  love  now,  don't  'e  show 
it  to  me,  boy,  as  if  I  was  to  suck  it.  Put  'un  down,  for  good, 
now;  and  thfee  shall  have  the  very  best  of  all  is  in  the  shop." 

''  Ho !  "  I  replied  with  much  contempt,  and  swinging  round 
the  gun  so  that  it  fetched  his  hoop  of  candles  down,  all  unkindled 
as  they  were :  "  Ho !  as  if  I  had  not  attained  to  the  handling 
of  a  gun  yet !  My  hands  are  cold,  coming  over  the  moors,  else 
would  I  go  bail  to  point  the  mouth  at  you  for  an  hour,  sir,  and 
no  cause  for  uneasiness." 

But  in  spite  of  all  assurances,  he  showed  himself  desirous 
only  to  see  the  last  of  my  gun  and  me.  I  dare  say  "  villanous 
salt-petre,"  as  the  great  playwright  calls  it,  was  never  so  cheap 
before  nor  since.  For  my  shilling  Master  Pooke  afforded  me 
tAvo  great  packages,  over-large  to  go  into  ni}^  pockets,  as  well 


NECESSABY  PRACTICE.  39 

as  a  mighty  chunk  of  lead,  which  I  bound  upon  Peggy's  withers. 
And  as  if  all  this  had  not  been  enough,  he  presented  me  with  a 
roll  of  comfits  for  my  sister  Annie,  whose  gentle  face  and  pretty 
manners  won  the  love  of  everybody. 

There  was  still  some  daylight  here  and  there,  as  I  rose  the 
hill  above  Porlock,  wondering  whether  my  mother  would  be  in 
a  fright,  or  would  not  know  it.  The  two  great  packages  of 
powder,  slung  behind  my  back,  knocked  so  hard  against  one 
another  that  I  feared  tliey  must  either  spill  or  blow  up,  and 
hurry  me  over  Peggy's  ears  from  the  woollen  cloth  I  rode  upon. 
For  father  always  liked  a  horse  to  have  some  wool  upon  his 
loins,  whenever  he  went  far  from  home,  and  had  to  stand  about, 
where  one  pleased,  hot,  and  wet,  and  panting.  And  father 
always  said  that  saddles  were  meant  for  men  full-grown,  and 
heavy,  and  losing  their  activity ;  and  no  boy  or  young  man  on 
our  farm  durst  ever  get  into  a  saddle,  because  they  all  knew 
that  the  master  would  chuck  them  out  pretty  quickly.  As  for 
me,  I  had  tried  it  once,  from  a  kind  of  curiosity ;  and  I  could 
not  walk  for  two  or  three  days,  the  leather  galled  my  knees  so. 
But  now,  as  Peggy  bore  me  bravely,  snorting  every  now  and 
then  into  a  cloud  of  air,  for  the  night  Avas  growing  frosty,  pres- 
ently the  moon  arose  over  the  shoulder  of  a  hill,  and  the  pony 
and  I  were  half  glad  to  see  her,  and  half  afraid  of  the  shadow^ 
she  threw,  and  the  images  all  around  us.  I  was  ready  at  any 
moment  to  shoot  at  anybody,  having  great  faith  in  my  blunder- 
buss, but  hoping  not  to  prove  it.  And  as  I  passed  the  narrow^ 
place  where  the  Doones  had  killed  my  father,  such  a  fear  broke 
out  upon  me  that  I  leaned  upon  the  neck  of  Peggy,  and  shut  my 
eyes,  and  Avas  cold  all  over.  However,  there  was  not  a  soul 
to  be  seen,  until  w^e  came  home  to  the  old  farmyard,  and  there 
w^as  my  mother  crying  sadly,  and  Bett}^  Muxworthy  scolding. 

"Come  along,  now,"  I  wdiispered  to  Annie,  the  moment  sup- 
per was  over ;  "  and  if  you  can  hold  your  tongue,  Annie,  I  wdll 
show^  you  something." 

She  lifted  herself  on  the  bench  so  quickly,  and  flushed  so 
rich  with  pleasure,  that  I  was  obliged  to  stare  hard  aw^ay,  and 
make  Betty  look  beyond  us.  Betty  thought  I  had  something 
liid  in  the  closet  beyond  the  clock-case,  and  she  Avas  the  more 
convinced  of  it,  by  reason  of  my  denial.  Not  that  Betty  Mux- 
worthy,  or  any  one  else,  for  that  matter,  ever  found  me  in  a 
falsehood,  because  T  never  told  one,  not  even  to  my  mother, 
—  or,  which  is  still  a  stronger  thing,  not  even  to  my  sweet- 
heart (Avhen  I  grew  up  to  have  one)  —  but  that  Betty  being 
wronged  in  the  matter  of  marriage,  a  generation  or  two  agone. 


40  LORN  A   DOONE. 

by  a  man  who  came  hedging  and  ditching,  had  now  no  mercy, 
except  to  believe  that  men  from  cradle  to  grave  are  liars,  and 
women  fools  to  look  at  them. 

When  Betty  could  find  no  crime  of  mine,  she  knocked  me 
out  of  the  way  in  a  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  nobody;  and  then 
she  began  to  coax  "Mistress  Annie,"  as  she  always  called  her, 
and  draw  the  soft  hair  down  her  hands,  and  whisper  into  the 
little  ears.  Meanwhile,  dear  mother  was  falling  asleep,  hav- 
ing been  troubled  so  much  about  me ;  and  "  Watch,"  my  father's 
pet  dog,  was  nodding  closer  and  closer  u^)  into  hef  lap. 

"Now,  Annie,  will  you  come?"  I  said,  for  I  wanted  her  to 
hold  the  ladle  for  melting  of  the  lead;  "  Avill  you  come  at  once, 
Annie?  Or  must  I  go  for  Lizzie,  and  let  her  see  the  whole 
of  it?" 

"Indeed,  then,  you  won't  do  that,"  said  Annie;  "Lizzie  to 
come  before  me,  John ;  and  she  can't  stir  a  pot  of  brewis,  and 
scarce  knows  a  tongue  from  a  ham,  John,  and  says  it  makes 
no  difference,  because  both  are  good  to  eat !  Oh,  Betty,  what 
do  you  think  of  that,  to  come  of  all  her  book-learning?" 

"Thank  God  he  can't  say  that  of  me,"  Betty  answered 
shortly,  for  she  never  cared  "about  argument,  except  on  her 
own  side;  "Thank  he,  I  says,  every  marnin'  a'most,  never  to 
lead  me  astray  so.  Men  is  desaving,  and  so  is  galanies;  but 
the  most  desaving  of  all  is  books,  with  their  heads  and  tails, 
and  speckots  in  'em,  lik  a  peg  as  have  taken  the  maisles. 
Some  folks  purtends  to  laugh  and  cry  over  them.  God  forgive 
them  for  liars !  " 

It  was  part  of  Betty's  obstinacy,  that  she  never  would 
believe  in  reading,  or  the  possibility  of  it,  but  stoutly  main- 
tained to  the  very  last,  that  people  first  learned  things  by 
heart,  and  then  pretended  to  make  them  out  from  patterns  done 
upon  paper,  for  the  sake  of  astonishing  honest  folk,  just  as  do 
the  conjurors.  And  even  to  see  the  parson  and  clerk  was  not 
enough  to  convince  her;  all  she  said  was,  "it  made  no  odds, 
they  were  all  the  same  as  the  rest  of  us."  And  now  that  she 
had  been  on  the  farm  nigh  upon  forty  years,  and  had  nursed 
my  father,  and  made  his  clothes,  and  all  that  he  had  to  eat, 
and  then  dressed  him  in  his  coffin,  she  was  come  to  such  author- 
ity, that  it  was  not  worth  the  wages  of  the  best  man  on  the 
place  to  say  a  word  in  answer  to  Betty,  even  if  he  would  face 
the  risk  to  have  ten  for  one,  or  twenty. 

Annie  was  her  love  and  joy.  For  Annie  she  would  do  any- 
thing, even  so  far  as  to  try  to  smile,  when  the  little  maid 
laughed  and  danced  to  her.     And  in  truth  I  know  not  how  it 


HABD   IT  IS    TO   CLIMB.  41 

was,  but  every  one  was  taken  with  Annie,  at  the  very  first  time 
of  seeing  her.  She  had  such  pretty  ways  and  manners,  and 
such  a  look  of  kindness,  and  a  sweet  soft  light  in  her  long  blue 
eyes,  full  of  trustful  gladness.  Everybody  who  looked  at  her 
seemed  to  grow  the  better  for  it,  because  she  knew  no  evil. 
And  then  the  turn  she  had  for  cooking,  you  never  would  have 
exj^ected  it;  and  how  it  was  her  richest  mirth  to  see  that  she 
had  pleased  you.  I  have  been  out  on  the  world  a  vast  deal,  as 
you  will  own  hereafter,  and  yet  have  I  never  seen  Annie's 
equal  for  making  a  weary  man  comfortable. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

HARD    IT    IS    TO    CLIMB. 

So  many  a  winter-night  went  by,  in  a  hopeful  and  pleasant 
numner,  with  the  hissing  of  the  bright  round  bullets,  cast  into 
the  water,  and  the  spluttering  of  the  great  red  apples,  which 
Annie  was  roasting  for  me.  We  always  managed  our  even- 
ing's work  in  the  chimney  of  the  back-kitchen,  where  there 
was  room  to  set  chairs  and  table,  in  spite  of  the  fire  burning. 
On  the  right-hand  side  was  a  mighty  oven,  where  Betty  threat- 
ened to  bake  us ;  and  on  the  left,  long  sides  of  bacon,  made  of 
favored  pigs,  and  growing  very  brown  and  comely.  Annie 
knew  the  names  of  all,  and  ran  up  through  the  wood-smoke, 
every  now  and  then,  when  a  gentle  memory  moved  her,  and 
asked  them  how  they  were  getting  on,  and  when  they  would 
like  to  be  eaten.  Then  she  came  back  with  foolish  tears,  for 
tliinking  of  that  necessity;  and  I,  being  soft  in  a  different  way, 
Avould  make  up  my  mind  against  bacon. 

But,  Lord  bless  you!  it  was  no  good.  Whenever  it  came  to 
breakfast-time,  after  three  hours  upon  the  moors,  I  regularly 
forgot  the  pigs,  but  paid  good  heed  to  the  rashers.  For  ours 
is  a  hungry  country,  if  such  there  be  in  England;  a  place,  I 
mean,  where  men  must  eat,  and  are  quick  to  discharge  the 
duty.  The  air  of  the  moors  is  so  shrewd  and  wholesome,  stir- 
ring a  man's  recollection  of  the  good  things  which  have  betided 
him,  and  Avhetting  his  hope  of  something  still  better  in  the 
future,  that  by  the  time  he  sits  down  to  a  cloth,  his  lieart  and 
stomach  are  tuned  too  well  to  say  "nay"  to  one  another. 

Almost  everybody  knows,  in  our  part  of  the  world  at  least, 
how  pleasant  and  soft  the  fall  of  the  land  is  round  about 


42  LOBNA   BOONE. 

Plover's  Barrows  farm.  All  above  it  is  strong  dark  mountain, 
spread  with  heath,  and  desolate,  but  near  our  house  the  valleys 
cove,  and  open  warmth  and  shelter.  Here  are  trees,  and  bright 
green  grass,  and  orchards  full  of  contentment,  and  a  man  may 
scarce  espy  the  brook,  although  he  hears  it  everywhere.  And 
indeed  a  stout  good  piece  of  it  comes  through  our  farmyard, 
and  swells  sometimes  to  a  rush  of  waves,  when  the  clouds  are 
on  the  hill-tops.  But  all  below,  Avliere  the  valley  bends,  and 
the  Lynn  stream  goes  along  with  it,  pretty  meadows  slope 
their  breast,  and  the  sun  spreads  on  the  water.  And  nearly 
all  of  this  is  ours,  till  you  come  to  Nicholas  Snowe's  land. 

But  about  two  miles  below  our  farm,  the  Bagworthy  water 
runs  into  the  Lynn,  and  makes  a  real  river  of  it.  Thence  it 
hurries  away,  with  strength  and  a  force  of  wilful  waters,  under 
the  foot  of  a  barefaced  hill,  and  so  to  rocks  and  woods  again, 
where  the  stream  is  covered  over,  and  dark,  heavy  pools  delay 
it.  There  are  plenty  of  fish  all  down  this  way,  and  the  further 
you  go  the  bigger  they  be,  having  deeper  grounds  to  feed  in ; 
and  sometimes  in  the  summer  months,  when  mother  could 
spare  me  off  the  farm,  I  came  down  here,  with  Annie  to  help 
(because  it  was  so  lonely),  and  caught  well-nigh  a  basketful  of 
little  trout  and  minnows,  with  a  hook  and  a  bit  of  worm  on  it, 
or  a  fern-web,  or  a  blow-fly,  hung  from  a  hazel  pulse-stick. 
For  of  all  the  things  I  learned  at  Blundell's,  only  two  abode 
with  me,  and  one  of  these  was  the  knack  of  fishing,  and  the 
other  the  art  of  swimming.  And  indeed  they  have  a  very 
rude  manner  of  teaching  children  to  swim  there ;  for  the  big 
boys  take  the  little  boys,  and  put  them  through  a  certain  proc- 
ess, which  they  grimly  call  "sheej^-washing."  In  the  third 
meadow  from  the  gate  of  the  school,  going  up  the  river,  there 
is  a  fine  pool  in  the  Lowman,  where  the  Taunton  brook  comes 
in,  and  they  call  it  the  "  Taunton  pool."  The  water  runs  down 
with  a  strong,  sharp  stickle,  and  then  has  a  sudden  elbow  in  it, 
where  the  small  brook  trickles  in;  and  on  that  side  the  bank 
is  steep,  four,  or  it  may  be  five  feet  high,  overhanging  loamily ; 
but  on  the  other  side  it  is  flat,  pebbly,  and  fit  to  land  upon. 
Now  the  large  boys  take  the  small  boys,  crying  sadly  for  mercy, 
and  thinking,  mayhap,  of  their  mothers ;  with  hands  laid  well 
at  the  back  of  their  necks,  they  bring  them  up  to  the  crest  of 
the  bank  upon  the  eastern  side,  and  make  them  strip  their 
clothes  off.  Then  the  little  boys,  falling  on  their  naked  knees, 
blubber  upwards  piteously;  but  the  large  boys  know  what  is 
good  for  them,  and  will  not  be  entreated.  So  they  cast  them 
down,  one  after  other,  into  the  splash  of  the  water,  and  watch 


HABD  IT  IS    TO   CLIMB.  43 

tlieiii  go  to  the  bottom  first,  and  then  come  up  and  fight  for  it, 
with  a  blowing  and  a  bubbling.  It  is  a  very  fair  sight  to  watch, 
when  you  know  there  is  little  danger ;  because,  although  the 
pool  is  deep,  the  current  is  sure  to  wash  a  boy  up  on  the  stones, 
where  the  end  of  the  depth  is.  As  for  me,  they  had  no 
need  to  throw  me  more  than  once,  because  I  jumped  in  of  my 
own  accord,  thinking  small  things  of  the  Lowman,  after  the 
violent  Lynn.  ^Nevertheless,  I  learnt  to  swim  there,  as  all  the 
other  boys  did;  for  the  greatest  point  in  learning  that  is  to  find 
that  you  must  do  it.  I  loved  the  Avater  naturally,  and  could 
not  long  be  out  of  it;  but  even  the  boys  who  hated  it  most, 
came  to  swim  in  some  fashion  or  other,  after  they  had  been 
flung,  for  a  year  or  two,  into  the  Taunton  pool. 

But  now,  although  my  sister  Annie  came  to  keep  me  com- 
pany, and  was  not  to  be  parted  from  me  by  the  tricks  of  the 
Lynn  stream,  because  I  put  her  on  my  back  and  carried  her 
across,  whenever  she  could  not  leap  it,  or  tuck  up  her  things 
and  take  the  stones ;  yet  so  it  happened  that  neither  of  us  had 
been  up  the  Bagworthy  water.  We  knew  that  it  brought  a  good 
stream  down,  as  full  of  fish  as  of  pebbles ;  and  we  thought  that 
it  must  be  very  pretty  to  make  a  way  where  no  way  was,  nor 
even  a  bullock  came  down  to  drink.  But  whether  we  were 
afraid  or  not,  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell,  because  it  is  so  long  ago; 
but  I  think  that  had  something  to  do  with  it.  For  Bagworthy 
water  ran  out  of  Doone  valley,  a  mile  or  so  from  the  mouth 
of  it. 

But  when  I  was  turned  fourteen  years  old,  and  put  into 
good  small-clothes,  buckled  at  the  knee,  and  strong  blue  worsted 
hosen,  knitted  by  my  mother,  it  happened  to  me  without  choice, 
I  may  say,  to  explore  the  Bagworthy  water.  And  it  came 
about  in  this  wise. 

My  mother  had  long  been  ailing,  and  not  well  able  to  eat 
much;  and  there  is  nothing  that  frightens  us  so  much  as  for 
people  to  have  no  love  of  their  victuals.  Now  I  chanced  to 
remember,  that  once  at  the  time  of  the  holidays,  I  had  brought 
dear  mother  from  Tiverton  a  jar  of  pickled  loaches,  caught  by 
myself  in  the  Lowman  river,  and  baked  in  the  kitchen  oven, 
with  vinegar,  a  few  leaves  of  bay,  and  about  a  dozen  pepper- 
corns. And  mother  had  said  that,  in  all  her  life,  slie  had  never 
tasted  anything  fit  to  be  compared  with  them.  Whether  she 
said  so  good  a  thing,  out  of  compliment  to  my  skill  in  catching 
the  fish  and  cooking  them,  or  whether  she  really  meant  it,  is 
more  than  I  can  tell,  though  I  quite  believe  the  latter,  and  so 
would  most  people  who  tasted  them ;  at  any  rate,  I  now  resolved 


44  LORN  A   BOONE. 

to  get  some  loaches  for  her,  and  do  them  in  the  self -same  man- 
ner, just  to  make  her  eat  a  bit. 

There  are  many  people,  even  now,  who  have  not  come  to  the 
right  knowledge  what  a  loach  is,  and  where  he  lives,  and  how 
to  catch  and  pickle  him.  And  I  will  not  tell  them  all  about 
it,  because  if  I  did,  very  likely  there  be  Avould  be  no  loaches 
left,  ten  or  twenty  years  after  the  appearance  of  this  book.  A 
pickled  minnow  is  very  good,  if  you  catch  him  in  a  stickle, 
with  the  scarlet  fingers  upon  him;  but  I  count  him  no  more  than 
the  ropes  in  beer,  compared  with  a  loach  done  properly. 

Being  resolved  to  catch  some  loaches,  whatever  trouble  it 
cost  me,  I  set  forth  without  a  word  to  any  one,  in  the  forenoon 
of  St.  Valentine's  day,  1675-6,  I  think  it  must  have  been. 
Annie  should  not  come  with  me,  because  the  water  was  too 
cold;  for  the  winter  had  been  long,  and  snow  lay  here  and 
there,  in  patches  in  the  hollow  of  the  banks,  like  a  lady's  gloves 
forgotten.  And  yet  the  spring  was  breaking  forth,  as  it  always 
does  in  Devonshire,  when  the  turn  of  the  days  is  over;  and 
though  there  was  little  to  see  of  it,  the  air  was  full  of  feeling. 

It  puzzles  me  now,  that  I  remember  all  those  young  impres- 
sions so,  because  I  took  no  heed  of  them  at  the  time  whatever^ 
and  yet  they  come  upon  me  bright,  when  nothing  else  is  evi- 
dent in  the  gray  fog  of  experience.  I  am  like  an  old  man 
gazing  at  the  outside  of  his  spectacles,  and  seeing,  as  he  rubs 
the  dust,  the  image  of  his  grandson  playing  at  bo-peep  with 
him. 

But  let  me  be  of  any  age,  I  never  could  forget  that  day,  and 
how  bitter  cold  the  water  was.  For  I  doffed  my  shoes  and  hose, 
and  put  them  into  a  bag  about  my  neck;  and  left  my  little  coat 
at  home,  and  tied  my  shirt-sleeves  back  to  my  shoulders.  Then 
I  took  a  three-pronged  fork  firmly  bound  to  a  rod  with  cord, 
and  a  piece  of  canvas  kerchief,  with  a  lump  of  bread  inside  itj 
and  so  went  into  the  pebbly  water,  trying  to  think  how  warm 
it  was.  For  more  than  a  mile  all  down  the  Lynn  stream, 
scarcely  a  stone  I  left  unturned,  being  thoroughly  skilled  in 
the  tricks  of  the  loach,  and  knowing  how  he  hides  himself. 
For  being  gray-spotted,  and  clear  to  see  through,  and  some- 
thing like  a  cuttle  fish,  only  more  substantial,  he  will  stay  quite 
still,  where  a  streak  of  weed  is  in  the  rapid  water,  hoping  to 
be  overlooked,  nor  caring  even  to  wag  his  tail.  Then  being 
disturbed  he  flips  away,  like  whalebone  from  the  finger,  and 
hies  to  a  shelf  of  stone,  and  lies  with  his  sharp  head  poked  in 
under  it;  or  sometimes  he  bellies  him  into  the  mud  and  only 
shows   his  back-ridge.     And  that  is  the  time  to  spear  him 


TIABD   IT  IS    TO    CLIMB.  45 

nicely,  holding  the  fork  very  gingerly,  and  allowing  for  the 
bent  of  it,  which  comes  to  pass,  I  know  not  how,  at  the  tickle 
of  air  and  water. 

Or  if  your  loach  should  not  be  abroad,  when  first  you  come 
to  look  for  him,  but  keeping  snug  in  his  little  home,  then  you 
may  see  him  come  forth  amazed  at  the  quivering  of  the  shingles, 
and  oar  himself  and  look  at  you,  and  then  dart  upstream,  like 
a  little  gray  streak ;  and  then  you  must  try  to  mark  him  in, 
and  follow  very  daintily.  So  after  that,  in  a  sandy  place,  you 
steal  up  behind  his  tail  to  him,  so  that  he  cannot  set  eyes  on 
you,  for  his  head  is  upstream  always,  and  there  you  see  him 
abiding  still,  clear,  and  mild,  and  affable.  Then,  as  he  looks 
so  innocent,  you  make  full  sure  to  prog  him  well,  in  spite  of 
the  wry  of  the  water,  and  the  sun  making  elbows  to  everything, 
and  the  trembling  of  your  fingers.  But  when  you  gird  at  him 
lovingly,  and  have  as  good  as  gotten  him,  lo!  in  the  go-by  of 
the  river  he  is  gone  as  a  shadow  goes,  and  only  a  little  cloud  of 
mud  curls  away  from  the  prong  he  should  have  been  on. 

A  long  way  down  that  limpid  water,  chill  and  bright  as  an 
iceberg,  went  my  little  self  that  day,  on  man's  choice  errand 
—  destruction.  All  the  young  fish  seemed  to  know  that  I  was 
one  who  had  taken  out  God's  certificate,  and  meant  to  have  the 
value  of  it;  every  one  of  them  was  aware,  that  we  desolate 
more  than  replenish  the  earth.  For  a  cow  might  come  and  look 
into  the  water,  and  put  her  j^ellow  lips  down;  a  kingfisher,  like 
a  blue  arroAV,  might  shoot  through  the  dark  alleys  over  the 
channel,  or  sit  on  a  dipping  withy-bough,  with  his  beak  sunk 
into  his  breast-feathers ;  even  an  otter  might  float  down-stream, 
likening  himself  to  a  log  of  wood,  with  his  flat  head  flush  with 
the  water  top,  and  his  oily  eyes  peering  quietly;  and  yet  no 
panic  would  seize  other  life,  as  it  does  when  a  sample  of  man 
comes. 

Now  let  not  any  one  suppose  that  I  thought  of  these  things 
when  I  was  young,  for  I  knew  not  the  way  to  do  it.  And 
proud  enough  in  truth  I  was,  at  the  universal  fear  I  spread  in 
all  those  lonely  places,  where  I  myself  must  have  been  afraid, 
if  anything  had  come  up  to  me.  It  is  all  very  pretty  to  see  the 
trees,  big  with  their  hopes  of  another  year,  though  dumb  as 
yet  on  the  subject,  and  the  waters  murmuring  gaiety,  and  the 
banks  spread  out  with  comfort;  but  a  boy  takes  none  of  this 
to  heart,  unless  he  be  meant  for  a  poet  (which  no  man  ever 
can  charge  on  me),  and  he  would  liefer  have  a  good  apple,  or 
even  a  bad  one,  if  he  stole  it. 

When   T  had  travelled  two  miles  or  so,  conquered  now  and 


4e  LORNA   BOONE. 

then  witli  cold,  and  coming  out  to  rub  my  legs  into  a  lively 
friction,  and  only  fishing  here  and  there  because  of  the  tum- 
bling water ;  suddenly,  in  an  open  space,  where  meadows  spread 
about  it,  I  found  a  good  stream  flowing  softly  into  the  body  of 
our  brook.  And  it  brought,  so  far  as  I  could  guess  by  the 
sweep  of  it  uiider  my  kneecaps,  a  larger  power  of  clear  water 
than  the  Lynn  itself  had;  only  it  came  more  quietly  down,  not 
being  troubled  with  stairs  and  steps,  as  the  fortune  of  the  Lynn 
is,  but  gliding  smoothly  and  forcibly,  as  if  upon  some  set  pur- 
pose. 

Hereupon  I  drew  up,  and  thought,  and  reason  was  much 
inside  me ;  because  the  water  was  bitter  cold,  and  my  little  toes 
were  aching.  So  on  the  bank  I  rubbed  them  well  with  a  sprout 
of  young  sting-nettle,  and  having  skipped  about  awhile,  was 
kindly  inclined  to  eat  a  bit. 

Now  all  the  turn  of  all  my  life  hung  upon  that  moment. 
But  as  I  sat  there  munching  a  crust  of  Betty  Muxworthy^s 
sweet  brown  bread,  and  a  bit  of  cold  bacon  along  with  it,  and 
kicking  my  little  red  heels  against  the  dry  loam  to  keep  them 
warm,  I  knew  no  more  than  fish  under  the  fork,  what  was  going 
on  over  me.  It  seemed  a  sad  business  to  go  back  now,  and  tell 
Annie  there  were  no  loaches;  and  yet  it  was  a  frightful  thing, 
knowing  what  I  did  of  it,  to  venture,  where  no  grown  man 
durst,  up  the  Bagworthy  water.  And  x^lease  to  recollect  that 
I  was  only  a  boy  in  those  days,  fond  enough  of  anything  new, 
but  not  like  a  man  to  meet  it. 

However,  as  I  ate  more  and  more,  my  spirit  arose  within 
me,  and  I  thought  of  what  my  father  had  been,  and  how  he 
had  told  me  a  hundred  times,  never  to  be  a  coward.  And  then 
I  grew  warm,  and  my  little  heart  was  ashamed  of  its  pit-a- 
patting,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  now  if  father  looks,  he  shall 
see  that  I  obey  him."  So  I  put  the  bag  round  my  neck  again, 
and  buckled  my  breeches  far  up  from  the  knee,  expecting 
deeper  water,  and  crossing  the  Lynn,  went  stoutly  up  vmder 
the  branches  which  hang  so  dark  on  the  Bagworthy  river. 

I  found  it  strongly  over-woven,  turned,  and  torn  with  thicket- 
wood,  but  not  so  rocky  as  the  Lynn,  and  more  inclined  to  go 
evenly.  There  were  bars  of  chafed  stakes  stretched  from 
the  sides  half-way  across  the  current,  and  light  outriders  of 
pithy  weed,  and  blades  of  last  year's  water-grass  trembling  in 
the  quiet  places,  like  a  spider's  threads,  on  the  transparent 
stillness,  with  a  tint  of  olive  moving  it;  and  here  and  there  the 
sun  came  in,  as  if  his  liglit  were  sifted,  making  dance  upon  the 
waves,  and  shadowing  the  pebbles. 


HARD  IT  IS   TO   CLIMB.  47 

Here,  although  affrighted  often  by  the  deep,  dark  places,  a.nd 
feeling  that  every  step  I  took  might  never  be  taken  backward, 
on  the  whole  I  had  very  comely  sport  of  loaches,  trout,  and 
minnows,  forking  some,  and  tickling  some,  and  driving  others 
to  shallow  nooks,  whence  I  could  bail  them  ashore.  Now,  if 
you  have  ever  been  fishing,  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  was  led 
on,  forgetting  all  about  danger,  and  taking  no  heed  of  the  time, 
but  shouting  in  a  childish  way,  whenever  I  caught  a  "  whacker  " 
(as  we  called  a  big  fish  at  Tiverton) ;  and  in  sooth  there  were 
very  line  loaches  here,  having  more  lie  and  harborage  than  in 
the  rough  Lynn  stream,  though  not  quite  so  large  as  in  the 
Lowman,  where  I  have  even  taken  them  to  the  weight  of  a 
quarter  of  a  pound. 

But  in  answer  to  all  my  shouts,  there  never  was  any  sound 
at  all,  except  of  a  rocky  echo,  or  a  scared  bird  hustling  away, 
or  the  sudden  dive  of  a  water-vole ;  and  the  place  grew  thicker 
and  thicker,  and  the  covert  grew  darker  above  me,  until  I 
thought  that  the  fishes  might  have  good  chance  of  eating  me, 
instead  of  my  eating  the  fishes. 

For  now  the  day  was  falling  fast  behind  the  brown  of  the  hill- 
tops; and  the  trees,  being  void  of  leaf  and  hard,  seemed  giants 
ready  to  beat  me.  And  every  moment,  as  the  sky  was  clearing 
up  for  a  white  frost,  the  cold  of  the  water  got  worse  and  worse, 
until  I  was  fit  to  cry  with  it.  And  so,  in  a  sorry  plight,  I  came 
to  an  opening  in  the  bushes,  where  a  great  black  pool  lay  in 
front  of  me,  whitened  with  snow  (as  I  thought)  at  the  sides, 
till  I  saw  it  was  only  foam -froth. 

Now,  though  I  could  swim  with  great  ease  and  comfort,  and 
feared  no  depth  of  water,  when  I  could  fairly  come  to  it,  yet  I 
had  no  desire  to  go  over  head  and  ears  into  this  great  pool, 
being  so  cramped  and  weary,  and  cold  enough  in  all  conscience, 
though  wet  only  up  to  the  middle,  not  counting  my  arms  and 
shoulders.  And  the  look  of  this  black  pit  Avas  enough  to  stop 
one  from  diving  into  it,  even  on  a  hot  summer's  day  with  sun- 
shine on  the  water;  I  mean,  if  the  sun  ever  shone  there.  As 
it  was,  I  shuddered  and  drew  back ;  not  alone  at  the  pool  itself, 
and  the  black  air  there  was  about  it,  but  also  at  the  whirling 
manner,  and  wisping  of  white  threads  upon  it,  in  stripy  circles 
round  and  round ;  and  the  centre  still  as  jet. 

But  soon  I  saw  the  reason  of  the  stir  and  depth  of  that  great 
pit,  as  well  as  of  the  roaring  sound  which  long  had  made  me 
wonder.  For  skirting  round  one  side,  with  very  little  comfort, 
because  the  rocks  were  high  and  steep,  and  the  ledge  at  the  foot 
so  narrow,  I  came  to  a  sudden  sight  and  marvel,  such  as  I 


48  LORN  A  BOONE. 

never  dreamed  of.  For,  lo !  I  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  long  pale 
slide  of  water,  coming  smoothly  to  me,  without  any  break  or 
hindrance,  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  and  fenced  on  either 
side  with  cliff,  sheer,  and  straight,  and  shining.  The  water 
neither  ran  nor  fell,  nor  lea^^ed  with  any  spouting,  but  made 
one  even  slope  of  it,  as  if  it  had  been  combed  or  planed,  and 
looking  like  a  plank  of  deal  laid  down  a  deep  black  staircase. 
However  there  was  no  side-rail,  nor  any  place  to  walk  upon, 
only  the  channel  a  fathom  wide,  and  the  perpendicular  walls 
of  crag  shutting  out  the  evening. 

The  look  of  this  place  had  a  sad  effect,  scaring  me  very 
greatly,  and  making  me  feel  that  I  would  give  something,  only 
to  be  at  home  again,  with  Annie  cooking  my  supper,  and  our 
dog,  "Watch,"  sniffing  upward.  But  nothing  would  come  of 
wishing;  that  I  had  long  found  out;  and  it  only  made  one  the 
less  inclined  to  work  without  white  feather.  So  I  laid  the  case 
before  me  in  a  little  council;  not  for  loss  of  time,  but  only  that 
I  wanted  rest,  and  to  see  things  truly. 

Then  says  I  to  myself, —  "John  Ridd,  these  trees,  and  pools, 
and  lonesome  rocks,  and  setting  of  the  sunlight,  are  making  a 
gruesome  coward  of  thee.  Shall  I  go  back  to  my  mother  so, 
and  be  called  her  fearless  boy?  " 

Nevertheless,  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  was  not  any  fine  sense 
of  shame  which  settled  my  decision ;  for  indeed  there  was  nearly 
as  much  of  danger  in  going  back  as  in  going  on,  and  perhaps 
even  more  of  labor,  the  journey  being  so  roundabout.  But  that 
which  saved  me  from  turning  back  was  a  strange  inquisitive 
desire,  very  unbecoming  in  a  boy  of  little  years;  in  a  word,  I 
would  risk  a  great  deal  to  know,  what  made  the  water  come 
down  like  that,  and  what  there  was  at  the  top  of  it. 

Therefore,  seeing  hard  strife  before  me,  I  girt  up  my  breeches 
anew,  with  each  buckle  one  hole  tighter,  for  the  sodden  straps 
were  stretching  and  giving,  and  mayhap  my  legs  were  grown 
smaller  from  the  coldness  of  it.  Then  I  bestowed  my  fish 
around  my  neck  more  tightly,  and  not  stopping  to  look  much, 
for  fear  of  fear,  crawled  along  over  the  fork  of  rocks,  where 
the  water  had  scooped  the  stone  out;  and  shunning  thus  the 
ledge  from  whence  it  rose,  like  the  mane  of  a  white  horse,  into 
the  broad  black  pool,  softly  I  let  my  feet  into  the  dip  and  rush 
of  the  torrent. 

And  here  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host,  although  (as  I 
thought)  so  clever ;  and  it  was  much  but  that  I  went  down  into 
the  great  black  pool,  and  had  never  been  heard  of  more ;  and 
this  must  have  been  the  end  of  me,  except  for  my  trusty  loach- 


HARD  IT  IS   TO   CLIMB.  49 

fork.  For  the  green  wave  came  down,  like  great  bottles  upon 
me,  and  my  legs  were  gone  off  in  a  moment,  and  I  had  not  time 
to  cry  out  with  wonder,  only  to  think  of  my  mother  and  Annie, 
and  knock  my  head  very  sadly,  which  made  it  go  round  so  that 
brains  were  no  good,  even  if  I  had  any.  But  all  in  a  moment, 
before  I  knew  aught,  except  that  I  must  die  out  of  the  Avay, 
with  a  roar  of  water  upon  me,  my  fork,  praise  God,  stuck  fast 
in  the  rock,  and  I  was  born  up  upon  it.  I  felt  nothing,  except 
that  here  was  another  matter  to  begin  upon ;  and  it  might  be 
worth  Avhile,  or  again  it  might  not,  to  have  another  fight  for 
it.  But  presently  the  dash  of  the  water  upon  my  face  revived 
me,  and  my  mind  grew  used  to  the  roar  of  it;  and  meseemed  I 
had  been  worse  off  than  this,  when  first  flvmg  into  the  Lowman. 

Therefore  I  gathered  my  legs  back  slowly,  as  if  they  were 
fish  to  be  landed,  stopping  whenever  the  water  flew  too  strongly 
off  my  shin-bones,  and  coming  along,  without  sticking  out  to 
let  the  wave  get  hold  of  me.  And  in  this  manner  I  won  a 
footing,  leaning  well  forward  like  a  draught-horse,  and  balanc- 
ing on  my  strength  as  it  were,  with  the  ashen  stake  set  behind 
me.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  "  John  Ridd,  the  sooner  you  get 
yourself  out  by  the  way  you  came,  the  better  it  will  be  for  you." 
But  to  my  great  dismay  and  affright,  I  saw  that  no  choice  was 
left  me  now,  except  that  I  must  climb  somehow  up  that  hill  of 
water,  or  else  be  washed  down  into  the  pool,  and  whirl  around 
till  it  drowned  me.  For  there  was  no  chance  of  fetching  back, 
by  the  way  I  had  gone  down  into  it ;  and  further  up  was  a  hedge 
of  rock  on  either  side  of  the  water-wa}',  rising  a  hundred  yards 
in  height,  and  for  all  I  could  tell  five  hundred,  and  no  place  to 
set  a  foot  in. 

Having  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  (which  was  all  I  knew),  and 
made  a  very  bad  job  of  it,  I  grasped  the  good  loach-stick  under 
a  knot,  and  steadied  me  with  my  left  hand,  and  so  with  a  sigh 
of  despair  began  my  course  up  the  fearful  torrent -way.  To  me 
it  seemed  half-a-mile  at  least  of  sliding  water  above  me,  but  in 
truth  it  was  little  more  than  a  furlong,  as  I  came  to  know  after- 
wards. It  would  have  been  a  hard  ascent,  even  without  the 
slippery  slime,  and  the  force  of  the  river  over  it,  and  I  had 
scanty  hope  indeed  of  ever  winning  the  summit.  Nevertheless 
my  terror  left  me,  now  I  was  face  to  face  with  it,  and  had  to 
meet  the  worst ;  and  I  set  myself  to  do  my  best,  with  a  vigor 
and  sort  of  hardness,  which  did  not  then  surprise  me,  but  have 
done  so  ever  since. 

The  water  was  only  six  inches  deep,  or  from  that  to  nine  at 
the  utmost,  and  all  the  way  up  I  could  see  my  feet  looking 

VOL.  I.  — i 


50  LORNA  BOONE. 

white  in  the  gloom  of  the  hollow,  and  here  and  there  I  found 
resting-place,  to  hold  on  by  the  cliff  and  pant  awhile.  And 
gradually  as  I  went  on,  a  warmth  of  courage  breathed  in  me,  to 
think  that  perhaps  no  other  had  dared  to  try  that  pass  before 
me,  and  to  wonder  what  mother  would  say  to  it.  And  then 
came  thought  of  my  father  also,  and  the  pain  of  my  feet  abated. 

How  I  went  carefully,  step  by  stejD,  keeping  my  arms  in 
front  of  me,  and  never  daring  to  straighten  my  knees,  is  more 
than  I  can  tell  clearly,  or  even  like  now  to  think  of,  because  it 
makes  me  dream  of  it.  Only  I  must  acknowledge,  that  the 
greatest  danger  of  all  was  just  where  I  saw  no  jeopardy,  but 
ran  up  a  patch  of  black  ooze -weed  in  a  very  boastful  manner, 
being  now  not  far  from  the  summit. 

Here  I  fell  very  piteously,  and  was  like  to  have  broken  my 
knee-cap,  and  the  torrent  got  hold  of  my  other  leg,  while  I 
was  indulging  the  bruised  one.  And  then  a  vile  knotting  of 
cramp  disabled  me,  and  for  awhile  I  could  only  roar,  till  my 
mouth  was  full  of  water,  and  all  of  my  body  was  sliding.  But 
the  fright  of  that  brought  me  to  again,  and  my  elbow  caught  in 
a  rock-hole ;  and  so  I  managed  to  start  again,  with  the  help  of 
more  humility. 

Now  being  in  the  most  dreadful  fright,  because  I  was  so  near 
the  top,  and  hope  was  beating  within  me,  I  labored  hard  witli 
both  legs  and  arms,  going  like  a  mill,  and  grunting.  At  last 
the  rush  of  forked  water,  where  first  it  came  over  the  lips  of 
the  fall,  drove  me  into  the  middle,  and  I  stuck  awhile  with  my 
toe-balls  on  the  slippery  links  of  the  pop-weed,  and  the  world 
was  green  and  gliddery,  and  I  durst  not  look  behind  me.  Then 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  die  at  last ;  for  so  my  legs  would  ache 
no  more,  and  my  breath  not  pain  my  heart  so;  only  it  did  seem 
such  a  pity,  after  lighting  so  long  to  give  in,  and  the  light  was 
coming  upon  me,  and  again  I  fought  towards  it ;  then  suddenly 
I  felt  fresh  air,  and  fell  into  it  headlong. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    BOY    AND    A    GIRL. 

When  I  came  to  myself  again,  my  hands  were  full  of  young 
grass  and  mould;  and  a  little  girl  kneeling  at  my  side  was  rub- 
bing my  forehead  tenderly,  with  a  dock-leaf  and  a  handker- 
chief. 


A    BOY  AND  A    GIBL.  51 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  she  whispered  softl}',  as  I  opened  my 
eyes  and  looked  at  her ;  '•  now  you  will  try  to  be  better,  won't 
you?" 

T  had  never  heard  so  sweet  a  sound  as  came  from  between 
her  bright  red  lips,  while  there  she  knelt  and  gazed  at  me; 
neither  had  I  ever  seen  anything  so  beautiful  as  the  large  dark 
e3'es  intent  upon  me,  full  of  pity  and  wonder.  And  then, 
my  nature  being  slow,  and  perhaps,  for  that  matter,  heavy, 
I  wandered  with  my  hazy  ej-es  down  the  black  shower  of  her 
hair,  as  to  my  jaded  gaze  it  seemed;  and  where  it  fell  on  the 
turf,  among  it  (like  an  early  star)  was  the  first  primrose  of  the 
season.  And  since  that  day,  I  think  of  her,  through  all  the 
rough  storms  of  my  life,  when  I  see  an  early  primrose. 
Perhaps  she  liked  my  countenance;  and  indeed  I  know  she 
did,  because  she  said  so  afterwards ;  although  at  the  time  she 
was  too  young  to  know  what  made  her  take  to  me.  Not  that 
I  had  any  beauty,  or  ever  pretended  to  have  any,  only  a  solid 
healthy  face,  which  many  girls  have  laughed  at. 

Thereupon  I  sate  upright,  with  my  little  trident  still  in  one 
hand,  and  was  much  afraid  to  speak  to  her,  being  conscious 
of  my  country -brogue,  lest  she  should  cease  to  like  me.  But 
she  clapped  her  hands,  and  made  a  trifling  dance  around  my 
back,  and  came  to  me  on  the  other  side,  as  if  I  were  a  great 
plaything. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  said,  as  if  she  had  every  right 
to  ask  me ;  "  and  how  did  you  come  here,  and  what  are  these 
wet  things  in  this  great  bag  ?  " 

"You  had  better  let  them  alone,"  I  said;  "they  are  loaches 
for  my  mother.     But  I  will  give  you  some,  if  you  like." 

"  Dear  me,  how  much  you  think  of  them !  Why  they  are 
only  fish.  But  how  your  feet  are  bleeding!  oh,  I  must  tie 
them  up  for  you.  And  no  shoes  nor  stockings!  Is  your 
mother  very  poor,  poor  boy  ?  " 

"Xo,"  I  said,  being  vexed  at  this;  "we  are  rich  enough  to 
buy  all  this  great  meadow,  if  w^e  chose;  and  here  my  shoes 
and  stockings  be." 

"Why  they  are  quite  as  wet  as  your  feet;  and  I  cannot  bear 
to  see  your  feet.  Oh,  please  to  let  me  manage  them ;  I  will 
do  it  very  softly." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  much  of  that,"  I  replied;  "I  shall  put 
some  goose-grease  to  them.  But  how  you  are  looking  at  me! 
I  never  saw  any  one  like  you  before.  My  name  is  John  Kidd. 
What  is  your  name  ?  " 

'"Lorna  Doone,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  afraid 


52  LORNA   DOONE. 

of  it,  and  hanging  her  head,  so  that  I  could  see  only  her  fore- 
head and  eyelashes ;  "  if  you  please,  my  name  is  Lorna  Doone; 
and  I  thought  you  must  have  known  it." 

Then  I  stood  up,  and  touched  her  hand,  and  tried  to  make 
her  look  at  me ;  but  she  only  turned  aAvay  the  more.  Young 
and  harmless  as  she  was,  her  name  alone  made  guilt  of  her. 
Nevertheless  I  could  not  help  looking  at  her  tenderly,  and  the 
more  when  her  blushes  turned  into  tears,  and  her  tears  to  long, 
low  sobs. 

"  Don't  cry,"  I  said,  "whatever  you  do.  I  am  sure  you  have 
never  done  any  harm.  I  will  give  you  all  my  fish,  Lorna,  and 
catch  some  more  for  mother;  only  don't  be  angry  with  me." 

She  flung  her  little  soft  arms  up,  in  the  passion  of  her  tears, 
and  looked  at  me  so  piteously,  that  what  did  I  do  but  kiss  her. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  very  odd  thing,  when  I  came  to  think  of  it, 
because  I  hated  kissing  so,  as  all  honest  boys  must  do.  But 
she  touched  my  heart  with  a  sudden  delight,  like  a  cowslip- 
blossom  (although  there  were  none  to  be  seen  yet)  and  the 
sweetest  flowers  of  spring. 

She  gave  me  no  encouragement,  as  my  mother  in  her  place 
would  have  done;  nay,  she  even  wiped  her  lips  (which 
methought  was  rather  rude  of  her),  and  drew  away,  and 
smoothed  her  dress,  as  if  I  had  used  a  freedom.  Then  I  felt 
my  cheeks  grow  burning  red,  and  I  gazed  at  my  legs  and  was 
sorry.  For  although  she  was  not  at  all  a  proud  child  (at  any 
rate  in  her  countenance),  yet  I  knew  that  she  was  by  birth  a 
thousand  years  in  front  of  me.  They  might  have  taken  and 
trained  me,  or  (which  would  be  more  to  the  purpose)  ni}^  sis- 
ters, until  it  was  time  for  us  to  die,  and  then  have  trained  our 
children  after  us,  for  many  generations;  yet  never  could  we 
have  gotten  that  look  upon  our  faces,  which  Lorna  Doone  had 
naturally,  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  it. 

Here  was  I,  a  yeoman's  boy,  a  yeoman  every  inch  of  me, 
even  where  I  was  naked ;  and  there  was  she,  a  lady  born,  and 
thoroughly  aware  of  it,  and  dressed  by  people  of  rank  and 
taste,  who  took  pride  in  her  beauty,  and  set  it  to  advantage. 
For  though  her  hair  was  fallen  down,  by  reason  of  her  wild- 
ness,  and  some  of  her  frock  was  touched  with  wet,  where  she 
had  tended  me  so,  behold  her  dress  was  pretty  enough  for  the 
queen  of  all  the  angels!  The  colors  were  bright  and  rich 
indeed,  and  the  substance  very  sumptuous,  yet  simple  and 
free  from  tinsel  stuff,  and  matching  most  harmoniously.  All 
from  her  waist  to  her  neck  was  white,  plaited  in  close  like  a 
curtain,  and  the  dark  soft  weeping  of  her  hair,  and  the  shad- 


A   BOY  AND  A    GIBL.  53 

owy  light  of  her  eyes  (like  a  wood  rayed  through  with  sunset), 
made  it  seem  yet  whiter,  as  if  it  were  done  on  purpose.  As 
for  the  rest,  she  knew  what  it  Avas,  a  great  deal  better  than  I 
did;  for  I  never  could  look  far  away  from  her  eyes,  when  they 
were  opened  upon  me. 

Now,  seeing  how  I  heeded  her,  and  feeling  that  I  had  kissed 
her,  although  she  was  such  a  little  girl,  eight  years  old  or 
thereabouts,  she  turned  to  the  stream  in  a  bashful  manner,  and 
began  to  watch  the  water,  and  rubbed  one  leg  against  the  other. 

I  for  my  part,  being  vexed  at  her  behavior  to  me,  took  up 
all  my  things  to  go,  and  made  a  fuss  about  it;  to  let  her  know 
I  was  going.  But  she  did  not  call  me  back  at  all,  as  I  had 
made  sure  she  would  do;  moreover,  I  knew  that  to  try  the 
descent  was  almost  certain  death  to  me,  and  it  looked  as  dark 
as  pitch ;  and  so  at  the  mouth  I  turned  round  again,  and  came 
back  to  her,  and  said,  "Lorna." 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  were  gone,"  she  answered;  "why  did 
you  ever  come  here  ?  Do  you  know  what  they  would  do  to 
us,  if  they  found  you  here  with  me  ?  " 

"  Beat  us,  I  dare  say,  very  hard,  or  me  at  least.  They  could 
never  beat  you." 

"  No.  They  would  kill  us  both  outright,  and  bury  us  here 
by  the  water ;  and  the  water  often  tells  me  that  I  must  come 
to  that." 

"  But  what  should  they  kill  me  for  ?  " 

"Because  you  have  found  the  way  up  here,  and  they  never 
could  believe  it.  Now,  please  to  go ;  oh  please  to  go.  They 
will  kill  us  both  in  a  moment.  Yes,  I  like  you  very  much  " 
—  for  I  was  teasing  her  to  say  it  —  "  very  much  indeed,  and 
I  will  call  you  John  Eidd,  if  you  like;  only  please  to  go, 
John.  And  when  your  feet  are  well,  you  know,  you  can  come 
and  tell  me  how  they  are." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Lorna,  I  like  you  very  much  indeed,  nearly 
as  much  as  Annie,  and  a  great  deal  more  than  Lizzie.  And  I 
never  saw  any  one  like  you;  and  I  must  come  back  again  to- 
morrow, and  so  must  you,  to  see  me;  and  I  will  bring  you 
such  a  maun  of  things  —  there  are  apples  still,  and  a  thrush 
I  caught  with  only  one  leg  broken,  and  our  dog  has  just  had 
puppies  " 

"  Oh  dear,  they  won't  let  me  have  a  dog.  There  is  not  a 
dog  in  the  valley.     They  say  they  are  such  noisy  things  " 

"  Only  put  your  hand  in  mine,  —  what  little  things  they  are, 
Lorna!  — and  I  will  bring  you  the  loveliest  dog;  I  Avill  show 
you  just  how  long  he  is." 


64  LORN  A   BOONE. 

''  Hush !  "  A  shout  came  down  the  valley;  and  all  my  heart 
was  trembling,  like  water  after  sunset,  and  Lorna's  face  was 
altered  from  pleasant  play  to  terror.  She  shrank  to  me,  and 
looked  up  at  me,  with  such  a  power  of  weakness,  that  I  at  once 
made  up  my  mind,  to  save  her,  or  to  die  Avith  her.  A  tingle 
went  through  all  my  bones,  and  I  only  longed  for  my  carbine. 
The  little  g'irl  took  courage  from  me,  and  put  her  cheek  quite 
close  to  mine. 

"  Come  with  me  down  the  waterfall.  I  can  carry  you  easily; 
and  mother  will  take  care  of  you." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  as  I  took  her  up:  "I  will  t^ll  3'Ouwhat 
to  do.  They  are  only  looking  for  me.  You  see  that  hole, 
that  hole  there  ?  "        " 

She  pointed  to  a  little  niche  in  the  rock,  which  verged  the 
meadow,  about  fifty  yards  away  from  us.  In  the  fading  of 
the  twilight  I  could  just  descry  it. 

"Yes,  I  see  it;  but  they  will  see  me  crossing  the  grass  to 
get  there." 

"Look!  look!  "  She  could  hardly  speak.  "There  is  a  way 
out  from  the  top  of  it;  they  would  kill  me  if  I  told  it.  Oh, 
here  they  come;  I  can  see  them." 

The  little  maid  turned  as  white  as  the  snow  which  hung  on 
the  rocks  above  her,  and  she  looked  at  the  water,  and  then  at 
me,  and  she  cried,  "Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  "  And  then  she  began 
to  sob  aloud,  being  so  young  and  unready.  But  I  drew  her 
behind  the  withy-bushes,  and  close  down  to  the  Avater,  where 
it  was  quiet,  and  shelving  deep,  ere  it  came  to  the  lip  of  the 
chasm.  Here  they  could  not  see  either  of  us  from  the  upper- 
valley,  and  might  have  sought  a  long  time  for  us,  even  when 
they  came  quite  near,  if  the  trees  had  been  clad  with  their 
summer  clotlies.  Luckily  I  had  picked  up  my  fish,  and  taken 
my  three-pronged  fork  away. 

"Crouching  in  that  hollow  nest,  as  children  get  together  in 
ever  so  little  compass,  I  saw  a  dozen  fierce  men  come  down, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  not  bearing  any  firearms,  but 
looking  lax  and  jovial,  as  if  they  were  come  from  riding  and  a 
dinner  taken  hungrily.  "  Queen,  queen !  "  they  were  shout- 
ing, here  and  there,  and  now  and  then :  "  where  the  pest  is  our 
little  queen  gone  ?  " 

"They  always  call  me  'queen,'  and  I  am  to  be  queen  by  and 
by,"  Lorna  whispered  to  me,  with  her  soft  cheek  on  my  rough 
one,  and  her  little  heart  beating  against  me:  "oh,  they  are 
crossing  by  the  timber  there,  and  then  they  are  sure  to 
see  us." 


A   BOY  AND  A    GIRL.  55 

^'Stop,"  said  I;  ''now  I  see  what  to  do.  I  must  get  into 
the  water,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"To  be  sure,  yes,  away  in  the  meadow  there.  But  how 
bitter  cold  it  will  be  for  you !  " 

She  saw  in  a  moment  the  way  to  do  it,  sooner  than  I  could 
tell  her;  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"Now  mind  you  never  come  again,"  she  whispered  over 
her  shoulder,  as  she  crept  away  with  a  childish  twist,  hiding 
her  white  front  from  me;  "only  I  shall  come  sometimes  — 
oh,  here  they  are.  Madonna!  " 

Daring  scarce  to  peep,  I  crept  into  the  water,  and  lay  down 
bodily  in  it,  with  my  head  between  two  blocks  of  stone,  and 
some  flood-drift  combing  over  me.  The  dusk  was  deepening 
between  the  hills,  and  a  white  mist  lay  on  the  river;  but  I, 
being  in  the  channel  of  it,  could  see  every  ripple,  and  twig, 
and  rush,  and  glazing  of  twilight  above  it,  as  bright  as  in  a 
picture ;  so  that  to  my  ignorance  there  seemed  to  be  no  chance 
at  all,  but  that  the  men  must  And  me.  For  all  this  time,  they 
were  shouting,  and  swearing,  and  keeping  such  a  hallabaloo, 
that  the  rocks  all  round  the  valley  rang ;  and  my  heart  quaked, 
so  (what  with  this  and  the  cold)  that  the  water  began  to  gur- 
gle round  me,  and  lap  upon  the  pebbles. 

Neither  in  truth  did  I  try  to  stop  it,  being  now  so  desperate, 
between  the  fear  and  the  wretchedness;  till  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  little  maid,  whose  beauty  and  Avhose  kindliness  had 
made  me  yearn  to  be  with  her.  And  then  I  knew  that  for  her 
sake  I  was  bound  to  be  brave,  and  hide  myself.  She  was 
lying  beneath  a  rock,  thirty  or  forty  yards  from  me,  feign- 
ing to  be  fast  asleep,  with  her  dress  spread  beautifully,  and 
her  .hair  drawn  over  her. 

Presently  one  of  the  great  rough  men  came  round  a  corner 
upon  her;  and  there  he  stopped,  and  gazed  awhile  at  her  fair- 
ness and  her  innocence.  Then  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  so  that  I  heard  him ;  and  if  I  had  only  brought 
my  gun,  I  would  have  tried  to  shoot  him. 

"Here  our  queen  is!  Here's  the  queen,  here's  the  captain's 
daughter!  "  he  shouted  to  his  comrades;  "fast  asleep,  by  God, 
and  hearty!  Now  I  have  hrst  claim  to  her;  and  no  one  else 
shall  touch  the  child.     Back  to  the  bottle,  all  of  you !  " 

He  set  her  dainty  little  form  upon  his  great  square  shoulder, 
and  her  narrow  feet  in  one  broad  hand;  and  so  in  triumph 
marched  away,  with  the  purple  velvet  of  her  skirt  ruffling  in  his 
long  black  beard,  and  the  silken  length  of  her  hair  fetched  out, 
like  a  cloud  by  the  wind,  behind  her.     This  way  of  her  going 


56  LOBNA   DOOJ\'E. 

vexed  nie  so,  that  I  leaped  upright  in  the  water,  and  must 
have  been  spied  by  some  of  them,  but  for  their  haste  to  the 
wine-bottle.  Of  their  little  queen  they  took  small  notice, 
being  in  this  urgency,  although  they  had  thought  to  find  her 
drowned;  but  trooped  away,  one  after  another,  with  kindly 
challenge  to  gambling,  so  far  as  I  could  make  them  out;  and 
I  kept  sharp  watch,  I  assure  you. 

Going  up  that  darkened  glen,  little  Lorna,  riding  still  the 
largest  and  most  fierce  of  them,  turned  and  put  up  a  hand  to 
me;  and  I  put  up  a  hand  to  her,  in  the  thick  of  the  mist  and 
the  willows. 

She  was  gone,  my  little  dear  (though  tall  of  her  age  and 
healthy) ;  and  when  I  got  over  my  thriftless  fright,  I  longed 
to  have  more  to  say  to  her.  Her  voice  to  me  was  so  different 
from  all  I  had  ever  heard  before,  as  might  be  a  sweet  silver 
bell,  intoned  to  the  small  chords  of  a  harp.  But  I  had  no  time 
to  think  a,bout  this,  if  I  hoped  to  have  any  supper. 

I  crept  into  a  bush  for  warmth,  and  rubbed  my  shivering 
legs  on  bark,  and  longed  for  mother's  fagot.  Then,  as  day- 
light sank  below  the  forget-me-not  of  stars,  with  a  sorrow  to 
be  quit,  I  knew  that  now  must  be  my  time  to  get  away,  if 
there  were  any. 

Therefore,  wringing  my  sodden  breeches,  I  managed  to 
crawl  from  the  bank  to  the  niche  in  the  clilf,  which  Lorna  had 
shown  me. 

Through  the  dusk,  I  had  trouble  to  see  the  mouth,  at  even 
five  landyards  of  distance;  nevertheless  I  entered  well,  and 
held  on  by  some  dead  fern-stems,  and  did  hope  that  no  one 
would  shoot  me. 

But  while  I  was  hugging  myself  like  this,  with  a  boyish  man- 
ner of  reasoning,  my  joy  was  like  to  have  ended  in  sad  grief, 
both  to  myself  and  my  mother,  and  haply  to  all  honest  folk 
who  shall  love  to  read  this  history.  For  hearing  a  noise  in 
front  of  me,  and  like  a  coward  not  knowing  where,  l;)ut  afraid 
to  turn  round  or  think  of  it,  I  felt  myself  going  down  some 
deep  passage,  into  a  pit  of  darkness.  It  was  no  good  to  catch 
the  sides,  for  the  whole  thing  seemed  to  go  Avith  me.  Then, 
without  knowing  how,  I  was  leaning  over  a  night  of  water. 

This  water  was  of  black  radiance,  as  are  certain  diamonds, 
spanned  across  with  vaults  of  rock,  and  carrying  no  image, 
neither  showing  marge  nor  end,  but  centred  (as  it  miglit  be) 
with  a  bottomless  indrawal. 

With  that  chill  and  dread  upon  me,  and  the  sheer  rock  all 
around,  and  the  faint  light  lieaving  wavily  on  the  silence  of 


THERE  IS   NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  57 

this  gulf,  I  must  have  lost  my  wits,  and  gone  to  the  bottom, 
if  there  were  any. 

But  suddenly  a  robin  sang  (as  they  Avill  do  after  dark, 
towards  spring)  in  the  brown  fern  and  ivy  behind  me.  I  took 
it  for  our  little  Annie's  voice  (for  she  could  call  any  robin), 
and  gathering  quick  warm  comfort,  sprang  up  the  steep  way 
towards  the  starlight.  Climbing  back,  as  the  stones  glid 
down,  I  heard  the  cold  greedy  wave  go  lapping,  like  a  blind 
black  dog,  into  the  distance  of  arches,  and  hollow  depths  of 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THERE    IS    NO    PLACE    LIKE    HOME. 

I  CAN  assure  you,  and  tell  no  lie  (as  John  Fry  always  used 
to  say,  when  telling  his  very  largest),  that  I  scrambled  back 
to  the  mouth  of  that  pit,  as  if  the  evil  one  had  been  after  me. 
And  sorely  I  repented  now  of  all  my  boyish  folly,  or  madness 
it  might  well  be  termed,  in  venturing,  Avith  none  to  help,  and 
nothing  to  compel  me,  into  that  accursed  valley.  Once  let  me 
get  out,  thinks  I;  and  if  ever  I  get  in  again,  without  being 
cast  in  by  neck  and  by  crop,  I  will  give  our  new-born  donkey 
leave  to  set  up  for  my  schoolmaster. 

How  I  kept  that  resolution,  we  shall  see  hereafter.  It  is 
enough  for  me  now  to  tell,  how  I  escaped  from  the  den  that 
night.  First  I  sat  down  in  the  little  opening,  which  Lorna 
had  x^ointed  out  to  me,  and  wondered  whether  she  had  meant 
(as  bitterly  occurred  to  me)  that  I  should  run  down  into  the 
pit,  and  be  drowned,  and  give  no  more  trouble.  But  in  less 
than  half  a  minute,  I  was  ashamed  of  that  idea,  and  remem- 
bered how  she  was  vexed  to  think  that  even  a  loach  should 
lose  his  life.  And  then  I  said  to  myself,  "Xow  surely,  she 
would  value  me  more  than  a  thousand  loaches ;  and  what  she 
said  must  be  quite  true,  about  the  way  out  of  this  horrible 
place." 

Therefore  I  began  to  search  with  the  utmost  care  and  dili- 
gence, although  my  teeth  were  chattering,  and  all  my  bones 
beginning  to  ache,  with  the  chilliness  and  the  wetness.  Be- 
fore very  long  the  moon  apj^eared,  over  the  edge  of  the  moun- 
tain, ancl  among  the  trees  at  the  top  of  it;  and  then  I  espied 
rough  steps,   and  rocky,  made  as  if  with  a  sledge-liammer, 


58  LOByA   BOONE. 

narrow,  steep,  and  far  asunder,  scooped  here  and  there  in  the 
side  of  the  entrance,  and  then  round  a  bulge  of  the  cliff,  like 
the  marks  upon  a  great  brown  loaf,  where  a  hungry  child  has 
picked  at  it.  And  higher  up,  where  the  light  of  the  moon 
shone  broader  upon  the  precipice,  there  seemed  to  be  a  rude 
broken  track,  like  the  shadow  of  a  crooked  stick  thrown  upon 
a  house -wall. 

Herein  was  small  encouragement;  and  at  hrst  1  was  minded 
to  lie  down  and  die;  but  it  seemed  to  come  amiss  to  me. 
God  has  his  time  for  alL  of  us ;  but  he  seems  to  advertise  us, 
when  He  does  not  mean  to  do  it.  Moreover,  I  saw  a  movement 
of  lights  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  as  if  lanthorns  were  com- 
ing after  me ;  and  the  nimbleness  given  thereon  to  my  heels 
was  in  front  of  all  meditation. 

Straightway,  I  set  foot  in  the  lowest  stirrup  (as  I  might 
almost  call  it),  and  clung  to  the  rock  with  my  nails,  and 
worked  to  make  a  jump  into  the  second  stirrup.  And  I  com- 
passed that  too,  with  the  aid  of  my  stick;  although,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  was  not  at  that  time  of  life  so  agile  as  boys  of 
smaller  frame  are ;  for  my  size  was  growing  beyond  my  years, 
and  the  muscles  not  keeping  time  with  it,  and  the  joints  of 
my  bones  not  closely  hinged,  with  staring  at  one  another. 
But  the  third  step-hole  was  the  hardest  of  all,  and  the  rock 
swelled  out  on  me  over  my  breast,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no 
attempting  it,  until  I  espied  a  good  stout  rope  Iianging  in  a 
groove  of  shadow,  and  just  managed  to  reach  the  end  of  it. 

How  I  clomb  up,  and  across  the  clearing,  and  found  my 
way  home  through  the  Bagworthy  forest,  is  more  than  I  can 
remember  now,  for  I  took  all  the  rest  of  it  then  as  a  dream, 
by  reason  of  perfect  weariness.  And  indeed  it  was  quite  be- 
yond my  hopes  to  tell  so  much  as  I  have  told;  for  at  first 
beginning  to  set  it  down,  it  was  all  like  a  mist  before  me. 
Nevertheless  some  parts  grew  clearer,  as  one  by  one  I  remem- 
bered them,  having  taken  a  little  soft  cordial,  because  the 
memory  frightens  me. 

For  the  toil  of  the  water,  and  danger  of  laboring  up  the  long 
cascade,  or  rapids,  and  then  the  surprise  of  the  fair  young 
maid,  and  terror  of  the  murderers,  and  desperation  of  getting 
away  —  all  these  are  much  to  me  even  now,  when  T  am  a  stout 
churchwarden,  and  sit  by  the  side  of  my  fire,  after  going 
through  many  far  worse  adventures,  which  I  Avill  tell,  God  will- 
ing. ^)nly  the  labor  of  writing  is  such  (especially  so  as  to 
construe,  and  challenge  a  reader  on  parts  of  speech,  and  hope 
to  be  even  with  him) ;  that  by  this  pipe  which  I  hold  in  my 


THERE  IS  yO   PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  59 

liaiid,  I  ever  expect  to  be  beaten,  as  in  the  days  when  uhl 
Doctor  Twiggs,  if  I  made  a  bad  stroke  in  my  exercise,  shouted 
aloud  with  a  sour  joy,  "John  Ridd,  sirrah,  down  with  your 
smallclothes  I  " 

Let  that  be  as  it  may,  I  deserved  a  good  beating  that  night, 
after  making  such  a  fool  of  myself,  and  grinding  good  fustian 
to  pieces.  But  when  I  got  home,  all  the  supper  was  in,  and 
the  men  sitting  at  the  white  table,  and  mother,  and  Annie, 
and  Lizzie  near  by,  all  eager,  and  offering  to  begin  (except, 
indeed  my  mother,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  doorway),  and 
by  the  fire  was  Betty  Muxworthy,  scolding,  and  cooking,  and 
tasting  her  work,  all  in  a  breath,  as  a  man  would  say.  I 
looked  through  the  door  from  the  dark  by  the  wood-stack,  and 
was  half  of  a  mind  to  stay  out,  like  a  dog,  for  fear  of  the  rat- 
ing and  reckoning ;  but  the  way  my  dear  mother  was  looking 
about,  and  the  browning  of  the  sausages,  got*  the  better  of  me. 

But  nobody  could  get  out  of  me,  where  I  had  spent  all  the 
day  and  evening;  although  they  worried  me  never  so  much, 
and  longed  to  shake  me  to  pieces;  esx^ecially  Betty  Mux- 
worth}',  who  never  could  learn  to  let  well  alone.  Xot  that 
they  made  me  tell  any  lies,  althougli  it  would  have  served 
them  right  almost  for  intruding  on  other  people's  business; 
but  that  I  just  held  my  tongue,  and  ate  my  supper  rarely,  and 
let  them  try  their  taunts  and  jibes,  and  drove  them  almost 
wild  after  supper,  by  smiling  exceeding  knowingly.  And 
indeed  I  could  have  told  them  things,  as  I  hinted  once  or 
twice;  and  then  poor  Bett}^,  and  our  little  Lizzie,  were  so 
mad  with  eagerness,  that  between  them  I  went  into  the  fire, 
being  thoroughh^  overcome  with  laughter,  and  my  ow^n  impor- 
tance. 

Now  what  the  working  of  my  mind  was  (if  indeed  it  worked 
at  all,  and  did  no4:  rather  follow  suit  of  body)  it  is  not  in  my 
power  to  say;  only  that  the  result  of  my  adventure  in  the 
Doone  Glen  was  to  make  me  dream  a  good  deal  of  nights,  which 
I  had  never  done  much  before,  and  to  drive  me,  with  tenfold 
zeal  and  purpose,  to  the  practice  of  bullet-shooting.  Not  that 
I  ever  expected  to  shoot  all  the  Doone  family,  one  by  one,  or 
even  desired  to  do  so,  for  my  nature  is  not  revengeful;  but  that 
it  seemed  to  be  somehoAv  my  business  to  understand  the  gun, 
as  a  thing  I  must  be  at  home  with. 

I  could  hit  the  barn-door  now  capitally  well,  with  the  Span- 
ish match-lock,  and  even  with  John  Fry's  blunderbuss,  at  ten 
good  landyards  distance,  without  any  rest  for  my  fusil.  And 
what  was  very  wrong  of  me,  though  I  did  not  see  it  then,  I  kept 


60  LOENA  nooNE. 

John  Fry  there,  to  praise  my  shots,  from  dinner-time  often 
until  the  gray  dusk,  while  he  all  the  time  sliould  have  been  at 
work,  spring-ploughing  upon  the  farm.  And  for  that  matter, 
so  should  I  have  been,  or  at  any  rate  driving  the  horses ;  but 
John  was  by  no  means  loth  to  be  there,  instead  of  holding  the 
plough-tail.     And  indeed  one  of  our  old  sayings  is  — 

"For  pleasure's  sake  I  would  liefer  wet, 
Than  ha'  ten  lumps  of  gold  for  each  one  of  my  sweat." 

And  again,  which  is  not  a  bad  proverb,  though  unthrifty, 
and  unlike  a  Scotchman's  — 

"  God  makes  the  wheat  grow  greener, 
While  farmer  be  at  his  dinner." 

And  no  Devonshire  man,  or  Somerset  either  (and  I  belong 
to  both  of  them),  ever  thinks  of  working  harder  than  his 
Maker  meant  for  him. 

Nevertheless  I  worked  hard  at  the  gun,  and  by  the  time 
that  I  had  sent  all  the  church-roof  gutters,  so  far  as  I  hon- 
estly could  cut  them,  through  the  red  pine-door,  I  began  to 
long  for  a  better  tool,  that  would  make  less  noise  and  throw 
straighter.  But  the  sheep-shearing  came,  and  the  hay  season 
next,  and  then  the  harvest  of  small  corn,  and  the  digging  of 
the  root  called  "  batata  "  (a  new  but  good  thing  in  our  neigh- 
borhood, which  our  folk  have  turned  into  "taties"),  and  then 
the  sweating  of  the  apples,  and  the  turning  of  the  cider-press, 
and  the  stacking  of  the  fire-wood,  and  netting  of  the  wood- 
cocks, and  the  springles  to  be  minded,  in  the  garden,  and  by 
the  hedgerows,  where  blackbirds  hop  to  the  molehills  in  the 
white  October  mornings,  and  gray  birds  comiC  to  look  for 
snails,  at  tlie  time  when  the  sun  is  rising. 

It  is  wonderful  how  time  runs  away,  when  all  these  things, 
and  a  great  many  others,  come  in  to  load  him  down  the  hill, 
and  prevent  him  from  stopping  to  look  about.  And  I  for  my 
part  can  never  conceive  how  people  who  live  in  towns  and 
cities,  where  neither  lambs  nor  birds  are  (except  in  some  shop 
windows),  nor  growing  corn,  nor  meadow-grass,  nor  even  so 
much  as  a  stick  to  cut,  or  a  stile  to  climb  and  sit  down  upon, 
—  how  these  poor  folk  get  through  their  lives,  without  being 
utterly  weary  of  them,  and  dying  from  pure  indolence,  is  a 
thing  God  only  knows,  if  His  mercy  allows  Him  to  think 
of  it. 

How  the  year  went  by,  I  know  not;  only  that  I  was  abroad 


THERE  IS  NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  61 

all  day,  sliooting,  or  fishing,  or  minding  the  farm,  or  riding 
after  some  stray  beast,  or  away  by  the  sea-side  below  Glen- 
thorne,  wondering  at  the  great  waters,  and  resolving  to  go  for 
a  sailor.  For  in  those  days,  I  had  a  firm  belief,  as  many 
other  strong  boys  have,  of  being  born  for  a  seaman.  And 
indeed  I  had  been  in  a  boat  nearly  twice ;  bnt  the  second  time 
mother  found  it  out,  and  came  and  drew  me  back  again;  and 
after  that  she  cried  so  badly,  that  I  Avas  forced  to  give  my 
word  to  her,  to  go  no  more  witliout  telling  her. 

But  Betty  Muxworthy  spoke  her  mind  quite  in  a  different 
way  about  it,  the  while  she  was  wringing  my  hosen,  and  clat- 
tering to  the  drying-horse. 

"Zailor,  ees  fai!  ay,  and  zarve  un  raight.  Her  can't  kape 
out  o'  the  watter  here,  whur  a'  must  goo  vor  to  vaind  un,  zame 
as  a  gurt  to-ad  squalloping,  and  mux  up,  till  I  be  wore  out,  I 
be,  wi'  the  very  saight  of  's  braiches.  Hoav  wil  un  ever  baide 
aboard  zhip,  wi'  the  watter  zinging  out  under  un,  and  comin' 
up  splash  when  the  wind  blow.  Latt  un  goo,  missus,  latt  un 
goo,  zay  I  for  wan,  and  old  Davy  wash  his  clouts  for  un." 

Now  this  discourse  of  Betty's  tended  more  than  my 
mother's  prayers,  I  fear,  to  keep  me  from  going.  For  I  hated 
Betty  in  those  days,  as  children  always  hate  a  cross  servant, 
and  often  get  fond  of  a  false  one.  But  Betty,  like  many  act- 
ive women,  was  false  by  her  crossness  only;  thinking  it  just 
for  the  moment  perhaps,  and  rushing  away  with  a  bucket; 
ready  to  stick  to  it,  like  a  clenched  nail,  if  beaten  the  wrong 
way  with  argument;  but  melting  over  it,  if  you  left  her,  as 
stinging  soap,  left  alone  in  a  basin,  spreads  all  abroad  with- 
out bubbling. 

But  all  this  is  beyond  the  children,  and  beyond  me  too  for 
that  matter,  even  now  in  ripe  experience;  for  I  never  did 
know  what  women  mean,  and  never  shall,  unless  they  tell  me, 
whenever  it  is  in  their  power.  Better  to  let  that  question 
pass.  For  although  I  am  now  in  a  place  of  some  authority,  I 
have  observed  that  no  one  ever  listens  to  me,  when  I  attempt 
to  lay  down  the  law ;  but  all  are  waiting  Avith  open  ears,  until 
I  do  enforce  it.  And  so,  methinks,  he  who  reads  a  history 
cares  not  much  for  the  wisdom  or  folly  of  the  writer  (know- 
ing well  that  the  former  is  far  less  than  his  own,  and  the  latter 
vastly  greater),  but  hurries  to  know  what  the  people  did,  and 
liow  they  got  on  about  it.  And  this  I  can  tell,  if  any  one  can, 
having  been  myself  in  the  thick  of  it. 

The  fright  I  had  taken  that  night,  in  Glen  Doone,  satisfied 
me  for  a  long  time  thereafter;  and  I  took  good  care  not  to 


62  LORN  A    BOONE. 

venture  even  in  the  fields^  and  woods  of  the  outer  farm,  with- 
out John  Fry  for  company.  John  was  greatly  surprised,  and 
pleased,  at  the  value  I  now  set  upon  him ;  until,  what  betwixt 
the  desire  to  vaunt,  and  the  longing  to  talk  things  over,  I 
gradually  laid  bare  to  him  nearly  all  that  had  befallen  me; 
except,  indeed,  about  Lorna,  whom  a  sort  of  shame  kept  me 
from  mentioning.  Not  that  I  did  not  think  of  her,  and  wish 
very  often  to  see  her  again;  but  of  course  I  Avas  only  a  boy 
as  yet,  and  therefore  inclined»to  despise  young  girls,  as  being 
unable  to  do  anything,  and  only  meant  to  listen  to  orders. 
And  Avhen  I  got  along  with  the  other  boys,  that  was  how  we 
always  spoke  of  them,  if  we  deigned  to  speak  at  all,  as  creat- 
ures of  a  loAver  order,  only  good  enough  to  run  errands  for  us, 
and  to  nurse  boy -babies. 

And  yet  my  sister  Annie  was,  in  truth,  a  great  deal  more 
to  me  than  all  the  boys  of  the  parish,  and  of  Brendon,  and 
Countisbury,  put  together;  although  at  the  time  I  never 
dreamed  it,  and  would  have  laughed  if  told  so.  Annie  was  of 
a  pleasing  face,  and  ver}^  gentle  manner,  almost  like  a  lady, 
some  people  said ;  but  without  any  airs  whatever,  only  trying 
to  give  satisfaction.  And  if  she  failed,  she  would  go  and 
weep,  without  letting  any  one  know  it,  believing  the  fault  to 
be  all  her  own,  when  mostly  it  was  of  others.  But  if  she 
succeeded  in  pleasing  you,  it  was  beautiful  to  see  her  smile, 
and  stroke  her  soft  chin  in  a  way  of  her  own,  which  she 
always  used,  when  taking  note  how  to  do  the  right  thing  again 
for  you.  And  then  her  cheeks  had  a  bright  clear  pink,  and 
her  eyes  were  as  blue  as  the  sky  in  spring,  and  she  stood  as 
upright  as  a  young  apple-tree,  and  no  one  could  help  but  smile 
at  her,  and  pat  her  brown  curls  approvingly ;  whereupon  she 
always  courteseyed.  For  she  never  tried  to  look  away,  when 
honest  people  gazed  at  her;  and  even  in  the  court-yard,  she 
would  come  and  help  to  take  your  saddle,  and  tell  (Avithout 
your  asking  her)  AA'hat  there  was  for  dinner. 

And  after Avards  she  grcAV  up  to  be  a  A^ery  comely  maiden, 
tall,  and  AA'itli  a  AA'ell-built  neck,  and  very  fair  Avhite  shoul- 
ders, under  a  bright  cloud  of  curling  hair.  Alas!  poor  Annie, 
like  most  of  the  gentle  maidens  —  but  tush,  I  am  not  come  to 
that  yet;  and  for  the  present  she  seemed  to  me  little  to  look 
at,  after  the  beauty  of  Lorna  Doone. 


A  BE  AVE  BESCUE  AND  A   BOUGH  BIDE.  63 

CHAPTER   X. 

A    BRAVE    RESCUE    AND    A    ROUGH    RIDE. 

It  happened  upon  a  November  evening  (when  I  was  about 
fifteen  3'ears  old,  and  out-growing  my  strength  very  rapidly, 
my  sister  Annie  being  turned  thirteen,  and  a  deal  of  rain  hav- 
ing fallen,  and  all  the  troughs  in  the  yard  being  flooded,  and 
the  bark  from  the  wood-ricks  washed  down  the  gutters,  and 
even  our  water-shoot  going  brown)  that  the  ducks  in  the 
court  made  a  terrible  quacking,  instead  of  marching  off  to  their 
pen,  one  behind  another.  Thereupon  Annie  and  I  ran  out,  to 
see  what  might  be  the  sense  of  it.  There  were  thirteen  ducks, 
and  ten  lily-white  (as  the  fashion  then  of  ducks  was),  not  I 
mean  twenty-three  in  all,  ])ut  ten  white  and  three  brown- 
striped  ones;  and  without  being  nice  about  their  color,  they 
all  quacked  very  movingly.  They  pushed  their  gold-colored 
bills  here  and  there  (yet  dirty,  as  gold  is  apt  to  be),  and  they 
jumped  on  the  triangles  of  their  feet,  and  sounded  out  of  their 
nostrils ;  and  some  of  the  over-excited  ones  ran  along  low  on 
the  ground,  quacking  grievously,  with  their  bills  snapping  and 
bending,  and  the  roof  of  their  mouths  exhibited. 

Annie  began  to  cry  "dilly,  dilly,  einy,  einy,  ducksey,"  ac- 
cording to  the  burden  of  a  tune  they  seem  to  have  accepted  as 
the  national  duck's  anthem ;  but  instead  of  being  soothed  by  it, 
they  only  quacked  three  times  as  hard,  and  ran  round,  till  we 
were  giddy.  And  then  they  shook  their  tails  altogether,  and 
looked  grave,  and  went  round  and  round  again.  ISTow  I  am 
uncommonly  fond  of  ducks,  Avhether  roystering,  roosting,  or 
roasted;  and  it  is  a  fine  sight  to  behold  them  walk,  poddling 
one  after  other,  with  their  toes  out,  like  soldiers  drilling,  and 
tlieir  little  eyes  cocked  all  ways  at  once,  and  the  way  that  they 
dib  with  their  bills,  and  dabble,  and  throw  up  their  heads  and 
enjoy  something,  and  then  tell  the  others  about  it.  Therefore 
I  knew  at  once,  by  the  Avay  they  were  carrying  on,  that  there 
must  be  something  or  other  gone  wholly  amiss  in  the  duck- 
world.  Sister  Annie  perceived  it  too,  but  with  a  greater  quick- 
ness; for  she  counted  them  like  a  good  duck-wife,  and  could 
only  tell  thirteen  of  them,  when  she  knew  there  ought  to  be 
fourteen. 

And  so  we  began  to  search  about,  and  the  ducks  ran  to  lead 
us  aright,  having  come  that  far  to  fetch  us ;  and  when  we  got 


64  LORNA   nOONE. 

down  to  tlie  foot  of  the  court -yard  where  the  two  great  ash-trees 
stand  by  the  side  of  the  little  water,  we  found  good  reason  for 
the  urgence  and  melancholy  of  the  duck-birds.  Lo!  the  old 
white  drake,  the  father  of  all,  a  bird  of  high  manners  and 
chivalry,  always  the  last  to  help  himself  from  the  pan  of  barley- 
meal,  and  the  first  to  show  light  to  a  dog  or  cock  intruding 
upon  his  family,  this  fine  fellow,  and  pillar  of  the  state,  was 
now  in  a  sad  predicament,  yet  quacking  very  stoutly.  For  the 
brook,  wherewith  he  had  been  familiar  from  his  callow  child- 
hood, and  wherein  he  Avas  wont  to  quest  for  Avater-newts,  and 
tadpoles,  and  caddis-worms,  and  other  game,  this  brook,  which 
afforded  him  very  often  scanty  space  to  dabble  in,  and  some- 
times starved  the  cresses,  was  now  coming  down  in  a  great 
brown  flood,  as  if  the  banks  never  belonged  to  it.  The  foam- 
ing of  it,  and  the  noise,  and  the  cresting  of  the  corners,  and 
the  up  and  down,  like  a  wave  of  the  sea,  were  enough  to  frighten 
any  duck,  though  bred  upon  stormy  waters,  which  our  ducks 
never  had  been. 

There  is  always  a  hurdle,  nine  feet  long,  and  four  and  a  half 
in  depth,  swung  by  a  chain  at  either  end  from  an  oak  laid  across 
the  channel.  And  the  use  of  this  hurdle  is  to  keep  our  kine 
at  milking  time  from  straying  away  there  drinking  (for  in  truth 
they  are  very  dainty)  and  to  fence  strange  cattle,  or  Farmer 
Snowe's  horses,  from  coming  along  the  bed  of  the  brook 
unknown,  to  steal  our  substance.  But  now  this  hurdle,  which 
hung  in  the  summer  a  foot  above  the  trickle,  would  have  been 
dipped  more  than  two  feet  deep,  but  for  the  power  against  it. 
For  the  torrent  came  down  so  vehemently  that  the  chains  at 
full  stretch  were  creaking,  and  the  hurdle,  buffeted  almost  flat, 
and  thatched  (so  to  say)  with  the  drift-stuff,  was  going  see-saw 
with  a  sulky  splash  on  the  dirty  red  comb  of  the  waters.  But 
saddest  to  see  was  between  two  bars,  where  a  fog  was  of  rushes, 
and  floodwood,  and  wild  celery-haulm,  and  dead  crowsfoot,  who 
but  our  venerable  mallard,  jammed  in  by  the  joint  of  his  shoul- 
der, speaking  aloud  as  he  rose  and  fell,  with  his  top-knot  full 
of  water,  unable  to  comprehend  it,  with  his  tail  washed  far 
away  from  him,  but  often  compelled  to  be  silent,  being  ducked 
very  harshly  against  his  will  by  the  choking  fall-to  of  the 
hurdle. 

For  a  moment  I  could  scarce  help  laughing;  because,  being 
borne  up  high  and  dry  by  a  tumult  of  the  torrent,  he  gave  me 
a  look  from  his  one  little  eye  (having  lost  one  in  fight  with  the 
turkey-cock),  a  gaze  of  appealing  sorrow,  and  then  a  loud 
quack  to  second  it.     But  the  quack  came  out  of  time,  I  sup- 


A   BRAVE  RESCUE  AND  A   BOUGH  RIDE.  65 

pose,  for  his  throat  got  filled  with  water,  as  the  hurdle  carried 
him  back  again.  And  then  there  was  scarcely  the  screw  of  his 
tail  to  be  seen  until  he  swung  up  again,  and  left  small  doubt 
])y  the  way  he  spluttered,  and  failed  to  quack,  and  hung  down 
his  poor  crest,  but  that  drown  he  must  in  another  minute,  and 
frogs  triumph  over  his  body. 

Annie  was  crying,  and  wringing  her  hands,  and  I  was  about 
to  rush  into  the  water,  although  I  liked  not  the  look  of  it,  but 
hoped  to  hold  on  by  the  hurdle,  when  a  man  on  horseback  came 
suddenly  round  the  corner  of  the  great  ash-hedge  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stream,  and  his  horse's  feet  were  in  the  water. 

"Ho,  there,"  he  cried;  "get  thee  back,  boy.  The  fiood  will 
carry  thee  down  like  a  straw.  I  will  do  it  for  thee,  and  no 
trouble." 

With  that  he  leaned  forward,  and  spoke  to  his  mare  —  she 
was  just  of  the  tint  of  a  strawberry,  a  young  thing,  very  beau- 
tiful—  and  she  arched  up  her  neck,  as  misliking  the  job;  yet, 
trusting  him,  would  attempt  it.  She  entered  the  flood,  with 
her  dainty  fore-legs  sloped  further  and  further  in  front  of  her, 
and  her  delicate  ears  pricked  forward,  and  the  size  of  her  great 
eyes  increasing;  but  he  kept  her  straight  in  the  turbid  rush, 
by  the  x^ressure  of  his  knee  on  her.  Then  she  looked  back, 
and  wondered  at  him,  as  the  force  of  the  torrent  grew  stronger, 
but  he  bade  her  go  on ;  and  on  she  went,  and  it  foamed  up  over 
her  shoulders ;  and  she  tossed  up  her  lip  and  scorned  it,  for 
now  her  courage  was  waking.  Then  as  the  rush  of  it  swept 
her  away,  and  she  struck  with  her  fore-feet  down  the  stream, 
he  leaned  from  his  saddle,  in  a  manner  which  I  never  could 
have  thought  possible,  and  caught  up  old  Tom  with  his  left 
hand,  and  set  him  between  his  holsters,  and  smiled  at  his  faint 
quack  of  gratitude.  In  a  moment  all  three  were  carried  down- 
stream, and  the  rider  lay  fiat  on  his  horse,  and  tossed  the 
hurdle  clear  from  him,  and  made  for  the  bend  of  smooth  water. 

They  landed,  some  thirty  or  forty  yards  lower,  in  the  midst 
of  our  kitchen-garden,  where  the  winter-cabbage  was;  but 
though  Annie  and  I  crept  in  through  the  hedge,  and  were  full 
of  our  thanks,  and  admiring  him,  he  would  answer  us  never  a 
word,  until  he  had  spoken  in  full  to  the  mare,  as  if  explaining 
the  whole  to  her. 

"Sweetheart,  I  know  thou  could'st  have  leaped  it,"  he  said, 
as  he  patted  her  cheek,  being  on  the  ground  by  this  time,  and 
she  was  nudging  up  to  him,  with  the  water  pattering  off  from 
her;  "but  I  had  good  reason,  Winnie  dear,  for  making  thee  go 
throusfh  it." 


m  LOBNA   BOONE. 

She  answered  him  kindly  with  her  soft  eyes,  and  sniffed  at 
him  very  lovingly,  and  they  understood  one  another.  Then 
he  took  from  his  waistcoat  two  pepper-corns,  and  made  the  old 
drake  swallow  them,  and  tried  him  softly  npon  his  legs,  where 
the  leading  gap  in  the  hedge  Avas.  Old  Tom  stood  up  quite 
bravely,  and  clapped  his  wings,  and  shook  off  the  wet  from  his 
tail-feathers ;  and  then  away  into  the  court-yard,  and  his  family 
gathered  around  him,  and  they  all  made  a  noise  in  their  throats, 
and  stood  up,  and  put  their  bills  together,  to  thank  God  for 
this  great  deliverance. 

Having  taken  all  this  trouble,  and  watched  the  end  of  that 
adventure,  the  gentleman  turned  round  to  us,  with  a  pleasant 
smile  on  his  face,  as  if  he  were  lightly  amused  with  himself; 
and  we  came  up  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  rather  short, 
about  John  Ery^s  height,  or  may  be  a  little  taller,  but  very 
strongly  built  and  springy,  as  his  gait  at  every  step  showed 
plainly,  although  his  legs  were  bowed  with  much  riding,  and 
he  looked  as  if  he  lived  on  horseback.  To  a  boy  like  me  he 
seemed  very  old,  being  over  twenty,  and  well-found  in  beard; 
but  he  was  not  more  than  four-and-twenty,  fresh  and  ruddy- 
looking,  with  a  short  nose,  and  keen  blue  eyes,  and  a  merry 
waggish  jerk  about  him,  as  if  the  world  were  not  in.  earnest. 
Yet  he  had  a  sharp,  stern  way,  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  if 
anything  misliked  him ;  and  we  knew  (for  children  see  sucli 
things)  that  it  was  safer  to  tickle  than  tackle  him. 

"Well,  young  uns,  what  be  gaping  at?"  He  gave  i:>retty 
Annie  a  chuck  on  the  chin,  and  took  me  all  in  without  winking. 

"Your  mare,"  said  I,  standing  stoutly  up,  being  a  tall  boy 
now ;  "  I  never  saw  such  a  beauty,  sir.  Will  jow  let  me  have 
a  ride  of  her?  " 

"Think  thou  couldst  ride  her,  lad?  She  will  have  no  bur- 
den but  mine.  Thou  couldst  never  ride. her.  Tut!  I  would  be 
loth  to  kill  thee." 

"  Eide  her !  "  I  cried  with  the  bravest  scorn,  for  she  looked 
so  kind  and  gentle;  "there  never  was  horse  upon  Exmoor 
foaled,  but  I  could  tackle  in  half-an-hour.  Only  I  never  ride 
upon  saddle.     Take  them  leathers  off  of  her." 

He  looked  at  me,  with  a  dry  little  whistle,  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  breeches-pockets,  and  so  grinned  that  I  could 
not  stand  it.  And  Annie  laid  hold  of  me,  in  such  a  way,  that 
I  was  almost  mad  Avith  her.  And  he  laughed,  and  approved 
her  for  doing  so.     And  the  worst  of  all  was  —  he  said  nothing. 

"  Get  away,  Annie,  will  you?  Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool,  good 
sir?     Only  trust  me  with  her,  and  I  will  not  over-ride  her." 


A   BRAVE  JRESCUE  AND  A   ROUGH  BIDE.  67 

"  For  that  I  will  go  bail,  my  son.  She  is  liker  to  over-ride 
thee.  But  the  ground  is  soft  to  fall  upon,  after  all  this  rain. 
Now  come  out  into  the  yard,  j^oung  man,  for  the  sake  of  your 
mother's  cabbages.  And  the  mellow  straw-bed  will  be  softer 
for  thee,  since  pride  must  have  its  fall.  I  am  thy  mother's 
cousin,  boy,  and  am  going  up  to  house.  Tom  Faggus  is  my 
name,  as  everybody  knows;  and  this  is  my  young  mare, 
AVinnie." 

What  a  fool  I  must  have  been  not  to  knoAv  it  at  once !  Tom 
Faggus,  the  great  highwayman,  and  his  young  blood-uiare,  the 
strawberry!  Already  her  fame  was  noised  abroad,  nearly  as 
much  as  her  master's ;  and  my  longing  to  ride  her  grew  tenfold, 
but  fear  came  at  the  back  of  it.  Not  that  I  had  the  smallest 
fear  of  what  the  mare  could  do  to  me,  by  fair  play  and  horse- 
trickery  ;  but  that  the  glory  of  sitting  upon  her  seemed  to  be 
too  great  for  me;  especially  as  there  were  rumors  abroad  that 
she  was  not  a  mare  after  all,  but  a  witch.  However,  she  looked 
like  a  filly  all  over,  and  wonderfully  beautiful,  with  her  supjDle 
stride,  and  soft  slope  of  shoulder,  and  glossy  coat  beaded  with 
water,  and  prominent  eyes,  full  of  love  or  of  fire.  Whether  this 
came  from  her  Eastern  blood  of  the  Arabs  newly  imported,  and 
Avhether  the  cream-color,  mixed  with  our  bay,  led  to  that  bright 
strawberry  tint,  is  certainly  more  than  I  can  decide,  being 
chiefly  acquainted  with  farm-horses.  And  these  come  of  ^nj^ 
color  and  form;  you  never  can  count  what  they  will  be,  and 
are  lucky  to  get  four  legs  to  them. 

Mr.  Faggus  gave  his  mare  a  wink,  and  she  walked  demurely 
after  him,  a  bright  young  thing,  flowing  over  with  life,  yet 
dropping  her  soul  to  a  higher  one,  and  led  by  love  to  anything ; 
as  the  manner  is  of  females,  when  they  know  Avhat  is  the  best 
for  them.  Then  Winnie  trod  lightly  upon  the  straw,  because  it 
had  soft  muck  under  it,  and  her  delicate  feet  came  back  again. 

"  Up  for  it  still,  boy,  be  ye?  "  Tom  Faggus  stopped,  and  the 
mare  stopped  there ;  and  they  looked  at  me  provokingly. 

"Is  she  able  to  leap,  sir?  There  is  good  take-off  on  this 
side  of  the  brook." 

Mr.  Faggus  laughed  very  quietly,  turning  round  to  Winnie, 
so  that  she  might  enter  into  it.  And  she,  for  her  part,  seemed 
to  know  exactly  where  the  joke  was. 

"  Good  tumble-off,  you  mean,  my  boy.  Well  there  can  be 
small  harm  to  thee.  I  am  akin  to  thy  family,  and  know  the 
substance  of  their  skulls." 

"  Let  me  get  up, "  said  I,  waxing  wroth,  for  reasons  I  cannot 
tell  you,  because  they  are  too  manifold;  "take  off'  your  saddle- 


68  LOBNA   nOONE. 

bag  things.  I  will  try  not  to  squeeze  her  ribs  in,  unless  she 
plays  nonsense  with  me." 

Then  Mr.  Faggus  was  up  on  his  mettle,  at  this  proud  speech 
of  mine ;  and  John  Fry  was  running  up  all  the  while,  and  Bill 
Dadds,  and  a  half  a  dozen.  Tom  Faggus  gave  one  glance 
around,  and  then  dropped  all  regard  for  me.  The  high  repute 
of  his  mare  was  at  stake,  and  what  was  my  life  compared  to 
it?  Through  my  defiance,  and  stupid  ways,  here  was  I  in  a 
duello,  and  my  legs  not  come  to  their  strength  yet,  and  my 
arms  as  limp  as  a  herring. 

Something  of  this  occurred  to  him,  eveti  in  his  wrath  with 
me,  for  he  spoke  very  softly  to  the  filly,  who  now  could  scarce 
subdue  herself;  but  she  drew  in  her  nostrils,  and  breathed  to 
his  breath,  and  did  all  she  could  to  answer  him. 

"Not  too  hard,  my  dear,"  he  said;  ''let  him  gently  down  on 
the  mixen.  That  will  be  quite  enough."  Then  he  turned  the 
saddle  off,  and  I  was  up  in  a  moment.  She  began  at  first  so 
easily,  and  pricked  her  ears  so  lovingly,  and  minced  about  as 
if  pleased  to  find  so  light  a  weight  on  her,  that  I  thought  she 
knew  I  could  ride  a  little,  and  feared  to  show  any  capers. 
"  Gee  wugg,  Polly !  "  cried  I,  for  all  the  men  were  now  looking 
on,  being  then  at  the  leaving-off  time ;  "  Gee  wugg,  Polly,  and 
show  what  thou  be'est  made  of."  With  that  I  plugged  my 
heels  into  her,  and  Billy  Dadds  flung  his  hat  up. 

Nevertheless,  she  outraged  not,  though  her  eyes  were  fright- 
ening Annie,  and  John  Fry  took  a  pick  to  keep  him  safe; 
but  she  curbed  to  and  fro,  with  her  strong  fore -arms  rising, 
like  springs  ingathered,  waiting  and  quivering  grievously,  and 
beginning  to  sweat  about  it.  Then  her  master  gave  a  shrill 
clear  whistle,  when  her  ears  were  bent  towards  him,  and  I  felt 
her  form  beneath  me  gathering  up  like  whalebone,  and  her 
hind-legs  coming  under  her,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  in  for  it. 

First  she  reared  upright  in  the  air,  and  struck  me  full  on 
the  nose  with  her  comb,  till  I  bled  worse  than  Eobin  Snell 
made  me ;  and  then  down  with  her  fore-feet  deep  in  the  straw, 
and  her  hind-feet  going  to  heaven.  Finding  me  stick  to  her 
still  like  wax  (for  my  mettle  was  up  as  hers  was),  away  she 
flew  with  me,  swifter  than  ever  I  went  before,  or  since,  I  trow. 
She  drove  full-head  at  the  cobwall  —  "oh.  Jack,  slip  off," 
screamed  Annie  —  then  she  turned  like  light,  when  I  thought 
to  crush  her,  and  ground  my  left  knee  against  it.  " Mux  me;  " 
I  cried,  for  my  breeches  were  broken,  and  short  words  went 
the  furthest  —  "  if  you  kill  me,  you  shall  die  with  me."  Then 
she  took  the  court-yard  gate  at  a  leap,  knocking  mj  v^ords 


t 


She   leaped  the  wide  water-trough   sideways  across,  to   and   fro, 

TILL    NO     BREATH     WAS     LEFT    IN     ME."  —  Vol.    I.    p.    69. 


TOJf   DESEIiVES   UTS   SUPPEP,.  69 

between  my  teeth,  and  then  right  over  a  quickset  hedge,  as  if 
the  sky  were  a  breath  to  her;  and  away  for  the  water-meadows, 
while  I  lay  on  her  neck  like  a  child  at  the  breast,  and  wished 
I  had  never  been  born.  Straight  away,  all  in  the  front  of  the 
wind,  and  scattering  clouds  around  her,  all  I  knew  of  the  speed 
we  made  was  the  frightful  flash  of  her  shoulders,  and  her  mane 
like  trees  in  a  tempest.  I  felt  the  earth  under  us  rushing  away, 
and  the  air  left  far  behind  us,  and  my  breath  came  and  went, 
and  I  prayed  to  God,  and  was  sorry  to  be  so  late  of  it. 

All  the  long  swift  while,  without  power  of  thought,  I  clung 
to  her  crest  and  shoulders,  and  dug  my  nails  into  her  creases, 
and  my  toes  into  her  flank-part,  and  was  i^roud  of  holding  on 
so  long,  though  sure  of  being  beaten.  Then  in  her  fury  at  feel- 
ing me  still,  she  rushed  at  another  device  for  it,  and  leaped  the 
wide  water-trough  sideways  across,  to  and  fro,  till  no  breath  was 
left  in  me.  The  hazel-boughs  took  me  too  hard  in  the  face, 
and  the  tall  dog-briars  got  hold  of  me,  and  the  ache  of  my  back 
was  like  crimping  a  fish;  till  I  longed  to  give  up,  and  lay 
thoroughly  beaten,  and  lie  there  and  die  in  the  cresses.  But 
there  came  a  shrill  whistle  from  up  the  home-hill,  where  the 
people  had  hurried  to  watch  us ;  and  the  mare  stopped  as  if 
with  a  bullet;  then  set  off  for  home  with  the  speed  of  a  swallow, 
and  going  as  smoothly  and  silently.  I  never  had  dreamed  of 
such  delicate  motion,  fluent,  and  graceful,  and  ambient,  soft 
as  the  breeze  flitting  over  the  flowers,  but  swift  as  the  summer 
lightning.  I  sat  up  again,  but  my  strength  was  all  spent,  and 
no  time  left  to  recover  it;  and  at  last,  as  she  rose  at  our  gate 
like  a  bird,  I  tumbled  off  into  the  mixen. 


CHAPTEK   XI. 

TOM    DESERVES    HIS    SUPPER. 

"Well  done,  lad,"  Mr.  Faggus  said,  good  naturedly;  for  all 
Avere  now  gathered  round  me,  as  I  rose  from  the  ground  some- 
wliat  tottering,  and  miry,  and  crestfallen,  but  otherwise  none 
the  worse  (having  fallen  upon  my  head,  Avhich  is  of  uncommon 
substance) ;  nevertheless  John  Fry  was  laughing,  so  that  I 
longed  to  clout  his  ears  for  him ;  "  Not  at  all  bad  work,  my  boy ; 
we  may  teach  you  to  ride  by  and  by,  I  see ;  I  thought  not  to  see 
you  stick  on  so  long  " 

"  I  should  have  stuck  on  much  longer,  sir,  if  her  sides  had 
not  been  wet.     She  was  so  slipper}- " 


70  LORNA   DOONE. 

"  Boy,  thou  art  right.  She  hath  given  many  the  slip.  Ha, 
ha!  Vex  not,  Jack,  that  I  laugh  at  thee.  She  is  like  a  sweet- 
heart to  me,  and  better  than  any  of  them  be.  It  would  have 
gone  to  my  heart,  if  thou  hadst  conquered.  None  but  I  can 
ride  my  Winnie  mare." 

"Foul  shame  to  thee  then,  Tom  Faggus,"  cried  mother,  com- 
ing up  suddenly,  and  speaking  so  that  all  were  amazed,  having 
never  seen  her  wrathful;  ''to  put  my  boy,  my  bo}^,  across  her, 
as  if  his  life  were  no  more  than  thine !  The  only  son  of  his 
father,  an  honest  man,  and  a  quiet  man,  not  a  roystering 
drunken  robber!  A  man  would  have  taken  thy  mad  horse  and 
thee,  and  flung  them  both  into  horse-pond  —  ay,  and  what's 
more  I'll  have  it  done  now,  if  a  hair  of  his  head  is  injured. 
Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy!  What  could  I  do  without  thee?  Put 
up  the  other  arm,  Johnny."  All  the  time  mother  was  scolding 
so,  she  was  feeling  me,  and  wiping  me ;  while  Faggus  tried  to 
look  greatly  ashamed,  having  sense  of  the  ways  of  women. 

"  Only  look  at  his  jacket,  mother !  "  cried  Annie ;  "  and  a 
shillingsworth  gone  from  his  small-clothes!  " 

"  What  care  I  for  his  clothes,  thou  goose?  Take  that,  and 
heed  thine  own  a  bit."  And  mother  gave  Annie  a  slap  which 
sent  her  swinging  up  against  Mr.  Faggus,  and  he  caught  her, 
and  kissed,  and  protected  her;  and  she  looked  at  him  very 
nicely,  with  great  tears  in  her  soft  blue  eyes.  "  Oh,  fie  upon 
thee,  fie  upon  thee !  "  cried  mother  (being  jQt  more  vexed  with 
him,  because  she  had  beaten  Annie) ;  "  After  all  we  have  done 
for  thee,  and  saved  thy  worthless  neck  —  and  to  try  to  kill  my 
son  for  me !  Never  more  shall  horse  of  thine  enter  stable  here, 
since  these  be  thy  returns  to  me.  Small  thanks  to  you,  John 
Fry,  I  say,  and  you  Bill  Dadds,  and  you  Jem  Sloconib,  and  all 
the  rest  of  your  coward  lot;  much  you  care  for  your  master's 
son!  Afraid  of  that  ugly  beast  yourselves,  and  you  put  a  boy 
just  breeched  upon  him !  " 

"  Wull,  missus,  what  could  us  do?  "  began  John ;  "  Jan  wudd 
goo,, now  wudd't  her,  Jem?     And  how  was  us  " 

"  Jan  indeed !  Master  John,  if  you  please,  to  a  lad  of  his 
years  and  stature.  And  now  Tom  Faggus,  be  off,  if  you  please, 
and  think  yourself  lucky  to  go  so ;  and  if  ever  that  horse  comes 
into  our  yard,  I'll  hamstring  him  myself,  if  none  of  my  cowards 
dare  do  it." 

Everybody  looked  at  mother,  to  hear  her  talk  like  that,  know- 
ing how  quiet  she  was,  day  l3y  day,  and  how  pleasant  to  be 
cheated.  And  the  men  began  to  shoulder  their  shovels,  both 
so  as  to  be  away  from  her,  and  to  go  and  tell  their  wives  of  it. 


TOM  UESEIiVE::^  II IS   SUFFEB.  71 

Winnie  too  was  looking  at  her,  being  pointed  at  so  much,  and 
wondering  if  she  had  done  amiss.  And  then  she  came  to 
me,  and  trembled,  and  stooped  her  head,  and  asked  my  pardon, 
if  she  had  been  too  proud  with  me. 

"Winnie  shall  stop  here  to-night,"  said  I,  for  Tom  Faggus 
still  said  never  a  word  all  the  while;  but  began  to  buckle  his 
things  on,  for  he  knew  that  women  are  to  be  met  with  wool, 
as  the  cannon-balls  were  at  the  siege  of  Tiverton  Castle; 
"mother,  I  tell  you,  Winnie  shall  stop;  else  I  will  go  away 
with  her.  I  never  knew  what  it  was,  till  now,  to  ride  a  horse 
worth  riding." 

"Young  man,"  said  Tom  Faggus,  still  preparing  sternly  to 
depart,  "you  know  more  about  a  horse  than  any  man  on 
Exmoor.  Your  mother  may  well  be  proud  of  you,  but  she 
need  have  had  np  fear.  As  if  I,  Tom  Faggus,  your  father's 
cousin — and  the  only  thing  I  am  proud  of  —  would  ever 
have  let  you  mount  my  mare,  which  dukes  and  princes  have 
vainly  sought,  except  for  the  courage  in  your  eyes,  and  the 
look  of  your  father  about  you.  I  knew  you  could  ride  when  I 
saw  you,  and  rarely  you  have  conquered.  But  women  care 
not  to  understand  us.  Good-bye,  John;  I  am  proud  of  you, 
and  I  hoped  to  have  done  you  pleasure.  And  indeed,  I  came 
full  of  some  courtly  tales,  that  would  have  made  your  hair 
stand  up.  But  though  not  a  crust  I  have  tasted  since  this  time 
yesterday,  having  given  my  meat  to  a  widow,  I  will  go  and 
starve  on  the  moor,  far  sooner  than  eat  the  best  supper  that 
ever  was  cooked,  in  a  x^lace  that  has  forgotten  me."  With  that 
he  fetched  a  heavy  sigh,  as  if  it  had  been  for  my  father;  and 
feebly  got  upon  Winnie's  back,  and  she  came  to  say  farewell 
to  me.  He  lifted  his  hat  to  my  mother,  with  a  glance  of  sor- 
row, but  never  a  word;  and  to  me  he  said,  "Open  the  gate, 
Cousin  John,  if  you  please.  You  have  beaten  her  so,  that  she 
cannot  leap  it,  poor  thing." 

But  before  he  was  truly  gone  out  of  our  yard,  my  mother 
came  softly  after  him,  with  her  afternoon  apron  across  her 
eyes,  and  one  hand  ready  to  offer  him.  Nevertheless  he  made 
as  if  he  had  not  seen  her,  though  he  let  his  horse  go  slowly. 

"Stop,  Cousin  Tom,"  my  mother  said,  "a  word  with  you, 
before  you  go." 

"  Why,  bless  my  heart ! "  Tom  Faggus  cried,  with  the  form 
of  his  countenance  so  changed,  that  I  verily  thought  another 
man  must  have  leaped  into  his  clothes  —  "do  I  see  my  Cousin 
Sarah?  I  thought  every  one  was  ashamed  of  me,  and  afraid  to 
offer  me  shelter,  since  I  lost  my  best  cousin,  John  Eidd.     '  Come 


72  LORN  A   BOONE. 

here/  he  used  to  say,  'Tom,  come  here,  when  you  are  worried, 
and  my  wife  shall  take  good  care  of  you.'  'Yes,  dear  John,' 
I  used  to  answer,  'I  know  she  promised  my  mother  so;  but 
people  have  taken  to  think  against  me,  and  so  might  Cousin 
Sarah. '  Ah,  he  was  a  man,  a  man !  If  you  only  heard  how 
he  answered  me.  But  let  that  go,  I  am  nothing  now,  since  the 
day  I  lost  Cousin  Eidd."  And  with  that  he  began  to  push  on 
again;  but  mother  would  not  have  it  so. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  that  was  a  loss  indeed.  And  I  am  nothing  either. 
And  you  should  try  to  allow  for  me ;  though  I  never  found  any 
one  that  did."  And  mother  began  to  cry,  though  father  had 
been  dead  so  long;  and  I  looked  on  with  a  stupid  surprise, 
having  stopped  from  crying  long  ago. 

"I  can  tell  you  one  that  will,"  cried  Tom,  jumping  off  Win- 
nie, in  a  trice,  and  looking  kindly  at  mother;^"!  can  allow  for 
you,  Cousin  Sarah,  in  everything  but  one.  1  am  in  some  ways 
a  bad  man  myself;  but  I  know  the  value  of  a  good  one;  and  if 
you  gave  me  orders,. by  God" And  he  shook  his  fists  to- 
wards Bagworthy  Wood,  just  heaving  up  black  in  the  sundown. 

"Hush,  Tom,  hush,  for  God's  sake!"  And  mother  meant 
me,  without  pointing  at  me ;  or  at  least  I  thought  she  did.  For 
she  ever  had  weaned  me  from  thoughts  of  revenge,  and  even 
from  longings  for  judgment.  "God  knows  best,  boy,"  she 
used  to  say,  "let  us  wait  His  time,  without  wishing  it."  And 
so,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did;  partly  through  her  teaching,  and 
partly  through  my  own  mild  temper,  and  my  knowledge  that 
father,  after  all,  was  killed  because  he  had  thrashed  them. 

"  Goodnight,  Cousin  Sarah;  good  night,  Cousin  Jack;  "  cried 
Tom,  taking  to  the  mare  again ;  "  many  a  mile  I  have  to  ride, 
and  not  a  bit  inside  of  me.  No  food  or  shelter,  this  side  of 
Exeford,  and  the  night  will  be  black  as  pitch,  I  trow.  But  it 
serves  me  right  for  indulging  the  lad,  being  taken  with  his 
looks  so." 

"Cousin  Tom,"  said  mother,  and  trying  to  get  so  that  Annie 
and  I  could  not  hear  her ;  "it  would  be  a  sad  and  unkinlike 
thing,  for  you  to  despise  our  dwelling-house.  We  cannot  enter- 
tain you,  as  the  lordly  inns  on  the  road  do ;  and  we  have  small 
change  of  victuals.  But  the  men  will  go  home,  being  Satur- 
day; and  so  you  will  have  the  fireside  all  to  yourself  and  the 
children.  There  are  some  few  collops  of  red  deer's  flesh,  and 
a  ham  just  down  from  the  chimney,  and  some  dried  salmon 
from  Lynmouth  weir,  and  cold  roast-pig,  and  some  oysters. 
And  if  none  of  those  be  to  your  liking,  we  could  roast  two  wood- 
cocks in  half  an  hour,  and  Annie  would  make  the  toast  for 


TOM  DESERVES   HIS   SUPPER.  73 

them.  And  the  good  folk  made  some  mistake  last  week,  going 
up  the  country,  and  left  a  keg  of  old  Holland  cordial  in  the 
coving  of  the  wood-rick,  having  borrowed  our  Smiler,  without 
asking  leave.  I  fear  there  is  something  unrighteous  about  it. 
But  what  can  a  poor  widow  do?  John  Fry  would  have  taken 
it,  but  for  our  Jack.     Our  Jack  was  a  little  too  sharp  for  him." 

Ay,  that  I  was ;  John  Fry  had  got  it,  like  a  billet  under  his 
apron,  going  away  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  as  if  to  kindle 
his  fireplace.  "AVhy,  John,"  I  said,  ''what  a  heavy  log!  Let 
me  have  one  end  of  it."  "Thank'e,  Jan,  no  need  of  thiccy," 
he  answered,  turning  his  back  to  me;  "waife  wanteth  a  log  as 
will  last  all  day,  to  kape  the  crock  a  zimmerin."  And  he 
banged  his  gate  upon  my  heels,  to  make  me  stop  and  rub  them. 
"Why,  John,  "said  I,  "you'm  got  a  log  with  round  holes  in 
the  end  of  it.  Who  has  been  cutting  gun-wads?  Just  lift 
your  apron,  or  I  will." 

But,  to  return  to  Tom  Faggus  —  he  stopped  to  sup  that  night 
with  us,  and  took  a  little  of  everything;  a  few  oysters  first, 
and  then  dried  salmon,  and  then  ham  and  eggs,  done  in  small 
curled  rashers,  and  then  a  few  collops  of  venison  toasted,  and 
next  to  that  a  little  cold  roast-pig,  and  a  woodcock  on  toast  to 
finish  with,  before  the  Schiedam  and  hot  water.  And  having 
changed  his  wet  things  first,  he  seemed  to  be  in  fair  appetite, 
and  praised  Annie's  cooking  mightily,  with  a  relishing  noise 
like  a  smack  of  his  lips,  and  a  rubbing  of  his  hands  together, 
whenever  he  could  spare  them. 

He  had  gotten  John  Fry's  best  small-clothes  on,  for  he  said 
he  Avas  not  good  enough  to  go  into  my  father's  (which  mother 
kept  to  look  at),  nor  man  enough  to  fill  them.  And  in  truth, 
my  mother  was  very  glad  that  he  refused,  when  I  offered  them. 
But  John  was  over-proud  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  say,  that 
such  a  famous  man  had  ever  dwelt  in  any  clothes  of  his ;  and 
afterwards  he  made  show  of  them.  For  Mr.  Faggus'  glory, 
then,  though  not  so  great  as  now  it  is,  was  spreading  very  fast 
indeed  all  about  our  neighborhood,  and  even  as  far  as  Bridge- 
water. 

Tom  Faggus  was  a  jovial  soul,  if  ever  there  has  been  one; 
not  making  bones  of  little  things,  nor  caring  to  seek  evil. 
There  was  about  him  such  a  love  of  genuine  human  nature, 
that  if  a  traveller  said  a  good  thing,  he  would  give  him  back 
his  purse  again.  It  is  true  that  he  took  people's  money,  more 
by  force  than  fraud;  and  the  law  (being  used  to  the  other 
course)  was  bitterly  moved  against  him,  although  he  could 
quote  precedent,     these  things  I  do  not  understand;  having 


74  LORN  A   BOONE. 

seen  so  mucli  of  robbery  (some  legal,  some  illegal),  that  I 
scarcely  know,  as  here  we  say,  one  crow's  foot  from  the  other. 
It  is  beyond  me,  and  above  me,  to  discuss  these  subjects ;  and 
in  truth  I  love  the  law  right  well,  when  it  doth  support  me, 
and  when  I  can  lay  it  down  to  my  liking,  with  power  to  sup- 
port it.  Loyal,  too,  to  the  King  am  I,  as  behoves  Church- 
warden; and  ready  to  make  the  best  of  him,  as  he  generally 
requires.  But  after  all,  I  could  not  see  (until  I  grew  much 
older,  and  came  to  have  some  property)  why  Tom  Faggus, 
working  hard,  w^as  called  a  robber,  and  felon  of  great;  while 
the  King,  doing  nothing  at  all  (as  became  his  dignity),  was 
liege-lord,  and  paramount  owner;  Avith  everybody  to  thank 
him  kindly,  for  accepting  tribute. 

For  the  present,  however,  I  learned  nothing  more  as  to 
what  our  cousin's  profession  was;  only  that  mother  seemed 
frightened,  and  whispered  to  him  now  and  then,  not  to  talk 
of  this  or  that,  because  of  the  children  being  there;  where- 
upon he  always  nodded,  with  a  sage  expression,  and  applied 
himself  to  hoUands. 

"  Now  let  us  go  and  see  Winnie,  Jack, "  he  said  to  me  after 
supper;  "for  the  most  part  I  feed  her  before  myself;  but  she 
was  so  hot  from  the  w^ay  you  drove  her.  jSTow  she  must  be 
grieving  for  me,  and  I  never  let  her  grieve  long." 

I  was  too  glad  to  go  Avith  him,  and  Annie  came  slyly  after 
us.  Tlie  tilly  was  walking  to  and  fro,  on  the  naked  floor  of 
the  stable  (for  he  would  not  let  her  have  any  straw,  until  he 
should  make  a  bed  for  her),  and  without  so  much  as  a  head- 
stall on,  for  he  would  not  have  her  fastened.  "  Do  you  take 
my  mare  for  a  dog  ?  "  he  had  said,  when  John  Fry  brought 
him  a  halter.  And  now  she  ran  to  him  like  a  child,  and  her 
great  eyes  shone  at  the  lanthorn. 

"  Hit  me,  Jack,  and  see  what  she  will  do.  I  will  not  let 
her  hurt  thee."  He  was  rubbing  her  ears,  all  the  time  he 
spoke,  and  she  was  leaning  against  him.  Then  I  made  believe 
to  strike  him,  and  in  a  moment  she  caught  me  by  the  waist- 
band, and  lifted  me  clean  from  the  ground,  and  was  casting 
me  down  to  trample  upon  me,  when  he  stopped  her  suddenly. 

"  What  think  you  of  that,  boy  ?  Have  you  horse,  or  dog, 
that  would  do  that  for  you  ?  Ay,  and  more  than  that  she  will 
do.  If  I  were  to  whistle,  by  and  by,  in  the  tone  that  tells 
my  danger,  she  would  break  this  stable-door  down,  and  rush 
into  the  room  to  me.  Nothing  will  keep  her  from  me  then, 
stone-wall,  or  church-tower.  Ah,  Winnie,  Winnie,  you  little 
witch,  we  shall  die  together." 


rOM  DESERVES  HIS   SUPPER.  75 

Then  he  turned  away  with  a  joke,  and  began  to  feed  her 
nicely,  for  she  was  very  dainty.  Not  a  husk  of  oat  would  she 
touch,  that  had  been  under  the  breath  of  another  horse,  how- 
ever hungry  she  might  be.  And  with  her  oats  he  mixed  some 
powder,  fetching  it  from  his  saddle-bags.  What  this  was  I 
could  not  guess,  neither  Avould  he  tell  me ;  but  laughed,  and 
called  it  "star-shavings."  He  watched  her  eat  every  morsel 
of  it,  with  two  or  three  drinks  of  pure  water  ministered  be- 
tween whiles;  and  then  he  made  her  bed,  in  a  form  I  had 
never  seen  before,  and  so  we  said  "  good  niglit  "  to  her. 

Afterwards  by  the  fireside,  he  kept  us  very  merry,  sitting 
in  the  great  chimney-corner,  and  making  us  play  games  with 
him.  And  all  the  while,  he  was  smoking  tobacco,  in  a  manner 
I  never  had  seen  before,  not  using  any  pipe  for  it,  but  having 
it  rolled  in  little  sticks,  about  as  long  as  my  finger,  blunt  at 
one  end,  and  sharp  at  the  other.  The  sharp  end  he  would  put 
in  his  mouth,  and  lay  a  brand  of  wood  to  the  other,  and  then 
draw  a  white  cloud  of  curling  smoke ;  and  we  never  tired  of 
watching  him.  I  wanted  him  to  let  me  do  it,  but  he  said, 
"No,  my  son;  it  is  not  meant  for  boys."  Then  Annie  put 
up  her  lips,  and  asked,  with  both  hands  on  his  knees  (for  she 
had  taken  to  him  wonderfully),  "  Is  it  meant  for  girls  then, 
cousin  Tom  ? "  But  she  had  better  not  have  asked,  for  he 
gave  it  her  to  try,  and  she  shut  both  eyes,  and  sucked  at  it. 
One  breath  however  was  quite  enough,  for  it  made  her  cough 
so  violently,  that  Lizzie  and  I  must  thump  her  back,  until  she 
was  almost  crying.  To  atone  for  that,  cousin  Tom  set  to,  and 
told  us  whole  pages  of  stories,  not  about  his  own  doings  at 
all;  but  strangely  enough  they  seemed  to  concern  almost 
every  one  else  we  had  ever  heard  of.  Without  halting  once 
for  a  word  or  a  deed,  his  tales  flowed  onward  as  freely  and 
brightly  as  the  flames  of  the  wood  up  the  chimney,  and  with 
no  smaller  variety.  For  he  spoke  with  the  voices  of  twenty 
people,  giving  each  person  the  proper  manner,  and  the  proper 
place  to  speak  from;  so  that  Annie  and  Lizzie  ran  all  about, 
and  searched  the  clock  and  the  linen-press.  And  he  changed 
his  face  every  moment  so,  and  with  such  power  of  mimicry, 
that  without  so  much  as  a  smile  of  his  own,  he  made  even 
mother  laugh  so  that  she  broke  her  new  tenpenny  waist- 
band; and  as  for  us  children,  we  rolled  on  the  floor,  and  Betty 
Mux  worthy  roared  in  the  wash  up. 


76  LOBNA  DOONE. 

CHAPTEE   XII. 

A    MAN  JUSTLY    POPULAR. 

Now  although  Mr.  Faggus  was  so  clever,  and  generous,  and 
celebrated,  I  know  not  whether,  upon  the  whole,  we  were 
rather  proud  of  him  as  a  member  of  our  family,  or  inclined  to 
be  ashamed  of  him.  And  indeed  I  think  that  the  SAvay  of  the 
balance  hung  upon  the  company  Ave  were  in.  For  instance, 
with  the  boys  at  Brendon  —  for  there  is  no  village  at  Oare  — 
I  was  exceeding  proud  to  talk  of  him,  and  would  freely  brag 
of  my  Cousin  Tom.  But  with  the  rich  parsons  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, or  the  justices  (who  came  round  now  and  then,  and 
were  glad  to  ride  up  to  a  warm  farm-house),  or  even  the  well- 
to-do  tradesmen  of  Porlock  —  in  a  word,  any  settled  power, 
which  was  afraid  of  losing  things  —  with  all  of  these  we  were 
very  shy  of  claiming  our  kinship  to  that  great  outlaw. 

Our  place  was  to  comfort  rather  than  condemn  him,  though 
our  ways  in  the  world  were  so  different,  knowing  as  we  did 
his  story;  which  knowledge,  methinks,  would  often  lead  us 
to  let  alone  God's  prerogative  —  judgment,  and  hold  by  man's 
privilege  —  pity.  Not  that  I  would  find  excuse  for  Tom's 
downright  dishonesty,  which  was  beyond  doubt  a  disgrace  to 
him,  and  no  credit  to  his  kinsfolk;  only  that  it  came  about 
without  his  meaning  any  harm,  or  seeing  how  he  took  to 
wrong;  yet  gradually  increasing  it.  And  now,  to  save  any 
further  trouble,  and  to  meet  those  who  disparage  him  (with- 
out allowance  for  the  time,  or  the  crosses  laid  upon  him),  I 
will  tell  the  history  of  him,  just  as  if  he  were  not  my  cousin, 
and  hoping  to  be  heeded.  And  I  defy  any  man  to  say  that  a 
word  of  this  is  either  false,  or  in  any  way  colored  by  family. 

Much  cause  he  had  to  be  harsh  with  the  world;  and  yet  all 
acknowledged  him  very  pleasant,  when  a  man  gave  up  his 
money.  And  often  and  often  he  paid  the  toll  for  the  carriage 
coming  after  him,  because  he  had  emptied  their  pockets,  and 
would  not  add  inconvenience.  By  trade  he  had  been  a  black- 
smith, in  the  town  of  Northmolton,  in  Devonshire,  a  rough 
rude  place  at  the  end  of  Exmoor;  so  that  many  people  mar- 
velled if  such  a  man  was  bred  there.  Not  only  could  he  read 
and  write,  but  lie  had  solid  substance;  apiece  of  land  worth 
a  hundred  pounds,  and  right  of  common  for  two  hundred 
sheep,   and  a  score-and-a-half  of  beasts,  lifting  up  or  lying 


A   MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  77 

clown.  And  being  left  an  orphan  (with  all  these  cares  upon 
him)  he  began  to  Avork  right  early,  and  made  such  a  fame  at 
the  shoeing  of  horses,  that  the  farriers  of  Barum  were  like  to 
lose  their  custom.  And  indeed  he  won  a  golden  Jacobus,  for 
the  best-shod  nag  in  the  north  of  Devon,  and  some  say  that 
he  never  was  forgiven. 

As  to  that  I  know  no  more,  except  that  men  are  jealous. 
But  whether  it  were  that,  or  not,  he  fell  into  bitter  trouble 
within  a  month  of  his  victory;  when  his  trade  was  growing 
upon  him,  and  his  sweetheart  ready  to  marry  him.  For  he 
loved  a  maid  of  Southmolton  (a  currier's  daughter  I  think  she 
was,  and  her  name  was  Betsy  Faramore),  and  her  father  had 
given  consent;  and  Tom  Faggus,  wishing  to  look  his  best,  and 
be  clean  of  course,  had  a  tailor  at  work  upstairs  for  him,  who 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Exeter.  And  Betsy's  things  were 
read}^  too  —  for  which  they  accused  him  afterwards,  as  if  he 
could  help  that  —  when  suddenly,  like  a  thunderbolt,  a  law- 
yer's writ  fell  upon  him. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  law-suit  with  Sir  Robert 
Bampfylde,  a  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  tried  to 
oust  him  from  his  common,  and  drove  his  cattle,  and  harassed 
them.  And  by  that  suit  of  law  poor  Tom  was  ruined  alto- 
gether, for  Sir  Eobert  could  pay  for  much  swearing;  and  then 
all  his  goods  and  his  farm  were  sold  up,  and  even  his  smith - 
ery  taken.  But  he  saddled  his  horse,  before  they  could  catch 
him,  and  rode  away  to  Southmolton,  looking  more  like  a  mad- 
man than  a  good  farrier,  as  the  people  said  Avho  saw  him. 
But  when  he  arrived  there,  instead  of  comfort,  they  showed 
him  the  face  of  the  door  alone ;  for  the  news  of  his  loss  was 
before  him,  and  jMaster  Faramore  was  a  sound  prudent  man, 
and  a  high  member  of  the  town-council.  It  is  said  that  they 
even  gave  him  notice  to  pay  for  Betsy's  wedding-clothes,  now 
that  he  was  too  poor  to  marry  her.  This  may  be  false,  and 
indeed  I  doubt  it ;  in  the  first  place,  because  Southmolton  is 
a  busy  place  for  talking;  and  in  the  next,  that  I  do  not  think 
the  action  would  have  lain  at  law,  especially  as  the  maid  lost 
nothing,  but  used  it  all  for  her  wedding  next  month  with  Dick 
Vellacott,  of  Mockham. 

All  this  was  very  sore  upon  Tom ;  and  he  took  it  to  heart  so 
grievously,  that  he  said,  as  a  better  man  might  have  said,  be- 
ing loose  of  mind  and  propert}',  ''  The  world  hath  preyed  on 
me,  like  a  wolf.     God  help  me  now  to  prey  on  the  world." 

And  in  sooth  it  did  seem,  for  a  while,  as  if  Frovidence  were 
with  him;  for  he  took  rare  toll  on  the  highway,  and  his  name 


78  LOENA  DOONE. 

was  soon  as  good  as  gold  anywhere  this  side  of  Bristowe.  He 
studied  his  business  by  night  and  by  day,  with  three  horses 
all  in  hard  work,  until  he  had  made  a  fine  reputation;  and 
then  it  was  competent  to  him  to  rest,  and  he  had  plenty  left 
for  charity.  And  I  ought  to  say  for  society  too,  for  he  truly 
loved  high  society,  treating  squires  and  noblemen  (who  much 
affected  his  company)  to  the  very  best  fare  of  the  hostel. 
And  they  say  that  once  the  King's  justitiaries,  being  upon 
circuit,  accepted  his  invitation,  declaring  merrily  that  if  never 
true  bill  had  been  found  against  him,  mine  host  should  now  be 
qualified  to  draw  one.  And  so  the  landlords  did;  and  he 
always  paid  them  handsomely,  so  that  all  of  them  were  kind 
to  him,  and  contended  for  his  visits.  Let  it  be  known  in  any 
township  that  Mr.  Faggus  was  taking  his  leisure  at  the  inn, 
and  straightAvay  all  the  men  flocked  thither  to  drink  his  health 
without  outlay,  and  all  the  women  to  admire  him;  while  the 
children  were  set  at  the  cross-roads  to  give  warning  of  any 
ofiicers. 

One  of  his  earliest  meetings  was  with  Sir  Kobert  Bamp- 
fylde  himself,  who  was  riding  along  the  Barum  road,  with 
only  one  serving-man  after  him.  Tom  Faggus  put  a  pistol  to 
his  head,  being  then  obliged  to  be  violent,  through  want  of 
reputation;  while  the  serving-man  pretended  to  be  a  long  way 
round  the  corner.  Then  the  baronet  pulled  out  his  purse, 
quite  trembling  in  the  hurry  of  his  j)oliteness.  Tom  took  the 
purse,  and  his  ring,  and  time-piece,  and  then  handed  them 
l3ack  with  a  very  low  bow,  saying  that  it  was  against  all  usage 
for  him  to  rob  a  robber.  Then  he  turned  to  the  unfaithful 
knave,  and  trounced  him  right  well  for  his  cowardice,  and 
stripped  him  of  all  his  property. 

But  now  Mr.  Faggus  kept  only  one  horse,  lest  the  Govern- 
ment should  steai  them;  and  that  one  was  the  young  mare 
Winnie.  How  he  came  by  her  he  never  would  tell,  but  I 
think  that  she  was  presented  to  him  by  a  certain  Colonel,  a 
lover  of  sport,  and  very  clever  in  horse-flesh,  whose  life  Tom 
had  saved  from  some  gamblers.  When  I  have  added  that 
Faggus  as  yet  had  never  been  guilty  of  bloodshed  (for  his  eyes, 
and  the  click  of  his  pistol  at  first,  and  now  his  high  reputa- 
tion made  all  his  wishes  respected),  and  that  he  never  robbed 
a  poor  man,  neither  insulted  a  woman,  but  was  very  good  to 
the  Church,  and  of  hot  patriotic  opinions,  and  full  of  jest  and 
jollity,  I  have  said  as  much  as  is  fair  for  him,  and  sliown  why 
he  was  so  popular.  Everybody  cursed  the  Doones,  who  lived 
apart  disdainfully.     But  all  good  x)eople  liked  Mr.  Faggus  — 


A   MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  V9 

when  he  had  not  robbed  them  —  and  many  a  poor  sick  man  or 
woman  blessed  him  for  other  people's  money;  and  all  the 
hostlers,  stable-boys,  and  tapsters  entirely  worshipped  him. 

I  have  been  rather  long,  and  perhaps  tedions,  in  my  account 
of  him,  lest  at  any  time  hereafter  his  character  should  be  mis- 
understood, and  his  good  name  disparaged;  whereas  he  was 

my  second  cousin,  and  the  lover  of  my but  let  that  bide. 

'Tis  a  thing  that  will  show  itself,  by  and  by. 

He  came  again,  about  three  months  afterwards,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  spring-time,  and  brought  me  a  beautiful  new  car- 
bine, having  learned  my  love  of  such  things,  and  my  great 
desire  to  shoot  straight.  But  mother  would  not  let  me  have 
the  gun,  until  he  averred  upon  his  honor  that  he  had  bought  it 
honestly.  And  so  he  had,  no  doubt,  so  far  as  it  is  honest  to 
buy  with  money  acquired  rampantly.  Scarce  could  I  stop  to 
make  my  bullets  in  the  mould  which  came  along  with  it,  but 
must  be  off  to  the  Quarry  hill,  and  new  target  I  had  made 
there.  And  he  taught  me  then  how  to  ride  bright  Winuie, 
who  was  grown  since  I  had  seen  her,  but  remembered  me  most 
kindly.  After  making  much  of  Annie,  who  had  a  wondrous 
liking  for  him  —  and  he  said  he  was  her  godfather,  but  God 
knows  how  he  could  have  been,  unless  they  confirmed  him 
precociously  —  away  he  went,  and  young  Winnie's  sides 
shone  like  a  cherry  by  candlelight. 

Xow  I  feel  that  of  those  boyish  days  I  have  little  more  to 
tell,  because  everything  went  quietly,  as  the  world  for  the 
most  part  does  with  us.  I  began  to  Avork  at  the  farm  in  ear- 
nest, and  tried  to  help  my  mother;  and  when  I  remembered 
Lorna  Doone,  it  seemed  no  more  than  the  thought  of  a  dream, 
which  I  could  hardly  call  to  mind.  Xow  who  cares  to  know, 
how  many  bushels  of  wheat  we  grew  to  the  acre,  or  how  the 
cattle  milched  till  we  ate  them,  or  Avhat  the  turn  of  the  sea- 
sons was  ?  But  my  stupid  self  seemed  like  to  be  the  biggest 
of  all  the  cattle;  for  having  much  to  look  after  the  sheep,  and 
being  always  in  kind  appetite,  I  grew  four  inches  longer  in 
every  year  of  my  farming,  and  a  matter  of  two  inches  wider; 
until  there  was  no  man  of  my  size  to  be  seen  elsewhere  upon 
Exmoor.  Let  that  pass :  what  odds  to  any,  how  tall  or  wide 
I  be  ?  There  is  no  Doone's  door  at  Plover's  Barrows,  and  if 
there  were  I  could  never  go  through  it.  They  vexed  me  so 
much  about  my  size,  long  before  I  had  completed  it,  girding 
at  me  with  paltry  jokes  whose  wit  was  good  only  to  stay  at 
home,  that  I  grew  shame-faced  about  the  matter,  and  feared 
to  encounter  a  looking-glass.  But  mother  was  very  proud, 
and  said  she  never  could  have  too  nmeli  of  me. 


80  LOBNA  LOONE. 

The  worst  of  all  to  make  me  ashamed  of  bearing  my  head 
so  high  —  a  thing  I  saw  no  way  to  help,  for  I  never  could 
hang  my  chin  down,  and  my  back  was  like  a  gate-post  when- 
ever I  tried  to  bend  it  —  the  worst  of  all  was  our  little  Eliza, 
who  never  could  come  to  a  size  herself,  though  she  had  the 
wine  from  the  Sacrament,  at  Easter  and  All-hallowmas,  only 
to  be  small  and  skinny,  sharp,  and  clever  crookedly.  Not  that 
her  body  was  out  of  the  straight  (being  too  small  for  that  per- 
haps), but  that  her  wit  was  full  of  corners,  jagged,  and  strange 
and  uncomfortable.  You  never  could  tell  what  she  might  say 
next :  and  I  like  not  that  kind  of  woman.  Now  God  forgive 
me  for  talking  so  of  my  own  father's  daughter;  and  so  much 
the  more  by  reason  that  my  father  could  not  help  it.  The 
right  way  is  to  face  the  matter,  and  then  be  sorry  for  every 
one.  My  mother  fell  grievously  on  a  slide,  which  John  Fry 
had  made  nigh  the  apple-room  door,  and  hidden  with  straw 
from  the  stable,  to  cover  his  own  great  idleness.  My  father 
laid  John's  nose  on  the  ice,  and  kept  him  warm  in  spite  of  it; 
but  it  was  too  late  for  Eliza.  She  was  born  next  day,  with 
more  mind  than  body  —  the  worst  thing  that  can  befall  a  man. 

But  Annie,  my  other  sister,  was  now  a  fine  fair  girl,  beau- 
tiful to  behold.  I  could  look  at  her  by  the  fireside,  for  an 
hour  together,  when  I  was  not  too  sleepy,  and  think  of  my 
dear  father.  And  she  would  dp  the  same  thing  by  me,  only 
wait  the  between  of  the  blazes.  Her  hair  was  done  up  in  a 
knot  behind,  but  some  would  fall  over  her  shoulders ;  and  the 
dancing  of  the  light  was  sweet  to  see  through  a  man's  eye- 
lashes. There  never  was  a  face  that  showed  the  light  or  the 
shadow  of  feeling,  as  if  the  heart  were  sun  to  it,  more  than 
our  dear  Annie's  did.  To  look  at  her  carefully,  you  might 
think  that  she  was  not  dwelling  on  anything;  and  then  she 
would  know  you  were  looking  at  her,  and  those  eyes  would 
tell  all  about  it.  God  knows  that  I  try  to  be  simple  enough 
to  keep  to  His  meaning  in  me,  and  not  make  the  worst  of  His 
children.  Yet  often  have  I  been  put  to  shame,  and  ready  to 
bite  my  tongue  off.  after  speaking  amiss  of  anybody,  and  let- 
ting out  my  littleness,  when  suddenly  mine  eyes  have  met  the 
pure  soft  gaze  of  Annie. 

As  for  the  Doones,  they  were  thriving  still,  and  no  one  to 
come  against  them ;  except  indeed  by  word  of  mouth,  to  which 
they  lent  no  heed  whatever.  Complaints  were  made  from 
time  to  time,  both  in  high  and  low  quarters  (as  the  rank  might 
be  of  the  people  robbed),  and  once  or  twice  in  the  highest  of  all, 
to  wit,  the  King  himself.     But  His  Majesty  made  a  good  joke 


A   MAN  JUSTLY  POP U LAB.  81 

about  it  (not  meaning  any  harm,  I  clonbt),  and  Avas  so  much 
pleased  with  himself  thereupon  that  he  quite  forgave  the  mis- 
chief. Moreover,  the  main  authorities  were  a  long  way  off; 
and  the  Chancellor  had  no  cattle  on  Exmoor;  and  as  for  my 
lord  the  Chief  Justice,  some  rogue  had  taken  his  silver  spoons ; 
whereupon  his  lordship  swore  that  never  another  man  would 
he  hang,  until  he  had  that  one  by  the  neck.  Therefore  the 
Doones  went  on  as  they  listed,  and  none  saw  fit  to  meddle 
with  them.  For  the  only  man  who  would  have  dared  to  come 
to  close  quarters  with  them,  that  is  to  say  Tom  Faggus,  him- 
self was  a  quarry  for  the  law,  if  ever  it  should  be  unhooded. 
Moreover  he  had  transferred  his  business  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Wantage,  in  the  county  of  Berks,  where  he  found  the  cli- 
mate dryer,  also  good  downs,  and  commons  excellent  for  gal- 
loping, and  richer  yeomen  than  ours  be,  and  better  roads  to 
rob  them  on. 

Some  folk,  who  had  wiser  attended  to  their  own  affairs,  said 
''that  I  (being  sizeable  now,  and  able  to  shoot  not  badly)  ought 
to  do  something  against  those  Doones,  and  show  what  I  was 
made  of.  But  for  a  time  I  was  very  bashful,  shaking  when 
called  upon  suddenly,  and  blushing  as  deep  as  a  maiden;  for 
my  strength  was  not  come  upon  me,  and  mayhap  I  had  grown 
in  front  of  it.  And  again,  though  I  loved  my  father  still,  and 
would  fire  at  a  word  about  him,  I  saw  not  how  it  would  do 
him  good  for  me  to  harm  his  injurers.  Some  races  are  of 
revengeful  kind,  and  will  for  years  pursue  their  wrong,  and 
sacrifice  this  world  and  the  next,  for  a  moment's  foul  satisfac- 
tion; but  methinks  this  comes  of  some  black  blood,  perverted 
and  never  purified.  And  I  doubt  but  men  of  true  English 
birth  are  stouter  than  so  to  be  twisted,  though  some  of  the 
women  may  take  that  turn,  if  their  own  life  runs  unkindly. 

Let  that  pass  —  I  am  never  good  at  talking  of  things  beyond 
me.  All  I  know  is,  that  if  I  had  met  the  Doone  who  had 
killed  my  father,  I  would  gladly  have  thrashed  him  black  and 
blue,  supposing  I  were  able ;  but  would  never  have  fired  a  gun 
at  him,  unless  he  began  that  game  with  me,  or  fell  upon  more 
of  my  family,  or  were  violent  among  women.  And  to  do  them 
justice,  my  mother  and  Annie  were  equally  kind  and  gentle ; 
but  Eliza  would  flame,  and  grow  white  with  contempt,  and  not 
trust  herself  to  speak  to  us. 

Now  a  strange  thing  came  to  pass  that  winter,  when  I  was 
twenty-one  years  old,  a  very  strange  thing,  which  affrighted 
the  rest,  and  made  me  feel  uncomfortable.  Not  that  there 
was  anything  in  it,  to  do  harm  to  any  one,   only  that  none 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82  LORNA   BOONE. 

could  explain  it,  except  by  attributing  it  to  the  devil.  The 
weather  was  very  mild  and  open,  and  scarcely  any  snow  fell;  at 
any  rate  none  lay  on  the  ground,  even  for  an  hour,  in  the 
highest  part  of  Exmoor ;  a  thing  which  I  knew  not  before  nor 
since,  as  long  as  I  can  remember.  But  the  nights  were  won- 
derfully dark,  as  though  with  no  stars  in  the  heaven;  and 
all  day  long  the  mists  were  rolling  upon  the  hills  and  down 
them,  as  if  the  whole  land  were  a  wash-house.  The  moor- 
land was  full  of  snipes  and  teal,  and  curlews  flying  and  cry- 
ing, and  lapwings  flapping  heavily,  and  ravens  hovering  round 
dead  sheep;  yet  no  redshanks,  nor  dottrell,  and  scarce  any 
golden  plovers  (of  which  we  have  great  store  generally),  but 
vast  lonely  birds,  that  cried  at  night,  and  moved  the  whole 
air  with  their  pinions;  yet  no  man  ever  saw  them.  It  was 
dismal,  as  well  as  dangerous  now,  for  any  man  to  go  fowling 
(which  of  late  I  loved  much  in  the  winter),  because  the  fog 
would  come  down  so  thick  that  the  pan  of  the  gun  was  reek- 
ing, and  the  fowl  out  of  sight  ere  the  powder  kindled,  and"' 
then  the  sound  of  the  piece  was  so  dead,  that  the  shooter 
feared  harm,  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  But  the  danger 
was  far  less  in  this,  than  in  losing  of  the  track,  and  falling 
into  the  mire,  or  over  the  brim  of  a  precipice. 

Nevertheless  I  must  needs  go  out,  being  young  and  very 
stupid,  and  feared  of  being  afraid;  a  fear  which  a  wise  man 
has  long  cast  by,  having  learned  of  the  manifold  dangers 
which  ever  and  ever  encompass  us.  And  beside  this  folly 
and  wildness  of  youth,  perchance  there  was  something,  I 
know  not  what,  of  the  joy  we  have  in  uncertainty.  Mother, 
in  fear  of  my  missing  home  —  though  for  that  matter,  I  could 
smell  supper,  when  hungry,  through  a  hundred  landyards  of 
fog,  —  my  dear  mother,  who  thought  of  me  ten  times  for  one 
thought  about  herself,  gave  orders  to  ring  the  great  sheep-bell, 
which  hung  above  the  pigeon-cote,  every  ten  minutes  of  the 
day ;  and  the  sound  came  through  the  plaits  of  fog,  and  I  was 
vexed  about  it,  like  the  letters  of  a  copy-book.  It  reminded 
me,  too,  of  Blundell's  bell,  and  the  grief  to  go  into  school  again. 

But  during  those  two  months  of  fog  (for  we  had  it  all  the 
winter),  the  saddest  and  the  heaviest  thing  was  to  stand  beside 
the  sea.  To  be  upon  the  beach  yourself,  and  see  the  long 
waves  coming  in;  to  know  that  they  are  long  waves,  but  only 
see  a  piece  of  them ;  and  to  hear  them  lifting  roundly,  swell- 
ing over  smooth  green  rocks,  plashing  down  in  the  hollow 
corners,  but  bearing  on  all  the  same  as  ever,  soft  and  sleek 
and  sorrowful,  till  their  little  noise  is  over. 


A   MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  83 

One  old  man  who  lived  at  Lyninoutli,  seeking  to  be  buried 
there,  having  been  more  than  half  over  the  world,  though  shy 
to  speak  about  it,  and  fain  to  come  home  to  his  birth-place, 
this  old  Will  Watcombe  (who  dwelt  by  the  water)  said  that 
our  strange  winter  arose  from  a  thing  he  called  the  "Gulf- 
stream  "  rushing  up  channel  suddenly.  He  said  it  was  hot 
water,  almost  fit  for  a  man  to  shave  with,  and  it  threw  all  our 
cold  water  out,  and  ruined  the  fish  and  the  spawning-time,  and 
a  cold  spring  would  come  after  it.  I  was  fond  of  going  to 
Lynmouth  on  Sunday,  to  hear  this  old  man  talk,  for  some- 
times he  would  discourse  with  me,  when  nobody  else  could 
move  him.  He  told  me  that  this  powerful  flood  set  in  upon 
our  coast  so  hard,  sometimes  once  in  ten  years,  and  some- 
times not  for  fifty,  and  the  Lord  only  knew  the  sense  of  it ; 
but  that  when  it  came,  therewith  came  warmth,  and  clouds, 
and  fog,  and  moisture,  and  nuts,  and  fruit,  and  even  shells; 
and  all  the  tides  were  thrown  abroad.  As  for  nuts  he  winked 
awhile,  and  chewed  a  piece  of  tobacco;  yet  did  I  not  compre- 
hend him.  Only  afterwards  I  heard  that  nuts  with  liquid 
kernels  came,  travelling  on  the  Gulf-stream;  for  never  before 
was  known  so  much  foreign  cordial  landed  upon  our  coast, 
floating  ashore  by  mistake  in  the  fog,  and  (what  with  the  toss- 
ing and  the  mist)  too  much  astray  to  learn  its  duty. 

Folk,  Avho  are  ever  too  prone  to  talk,  said  that  Will  Wat- 
combe himself  knew  better  than  any  body  else,  about  this  drift 
of  the  Gulf-stream,  and  the  places  where  it  would  come  ashore, 
and  the  cave  that  took  the  indraught.  But  De  Whichehalse, 
our  great  magistrate,  certified  that  there  was  no  proof  of 
unlawful  importation;  neither  good  cause  to  suspect  it,  at  a 
time  ^ of  Christian  charity.  And  we  knew  that  it  was  a  foul 
thing  for  some  quarrymen  to  say,  that  night  after  night  they 
had  been  digging  a  new  cellar  at  Ley  Manor  to  hold  the  little 
marks  of  respect  found  in  the  caverns  at  high-water  weed. 
Let  that  be :  it  is  none  of  my  business  to  speak  evil  of  digni- 
ties; only  we  common  people  joked  of  the  "Gulp-stream," 
as  we  called  it. 

But  the  thing  which  astonished  and  frightened  us  so,  was 
not,  I  do  assure  you,  the  landing  of  foreign  spirits,  nor  the 
loom  of  a  lugger  at  twilight  in  the  gloom  of  the  winter  moon- 
rise.  That  which  made  us  crouch  in  by  the  fire,  or  draw  the 
bed-clothes  over  us,  and  try  to  think  of  something  else,  was 
a  strange  mysterious  sound. 

At  gray  of  night,  when  the  sun  was  gone,  and  no  red  in  the 
west  remained,   neither  were    stars    forthcoming,   suddenly  a 


84  LOBNA    BOONE. 

wailing  voice  rose  along  the  valleys,  and  a  sound  in  the  air, 
as  of  people  running.  It  mattered  not  whether  you  stood  on 
the  moor,  or  crouched  behind  rocks  away  from  it,  or  down 
among  reedy  places;  all  as  one  the  sound  would  come,  now 
from  the  heart  of  the  earth  beneath,  noAV  overhead  bearing 
down  on  you.  And  then  there  was  rushing  of  something  by, 
and  melancholy  laughter,  and  the  hair  of  a  man  would  stand 
on  end,  before  he  could  reason  properly. 

God,  in  His  mercy,  knows  that  I  am  stupid  enough  for  any 
man,  and  very  slow  of  impression,  nor  ever  could  bring  myself 
to  believe  that  our  Father  would  let  the  evil  one  get  the  upper 
hand  of  us.  But  when  I  had  heard  that  sound  three  times,  in 
the  lonely  gloom  of  the  evening  fog,  and  the  hush  that  fol- 
lowed, the  lines  of  air,  I  was  loth  to  go  abroad  by  night,  even 
so  far  as  the  stables,  and  loved  the  light  of  a  candle  more,  and 
the  glow  of  a  fire  with  company. 

There  were  divers  stories  about  it,  told  all  over  the  breadth 
of  the  moorland.  But  those  who  had  heard  it  most  often 
declared  that  it  must  be  the  wail  of  a  woman's  voice,  and  the 
rustle  of  robes  fleeing  horribly,  and  fiends  in  the  fog  going 
after  her.  To  that  however  I  paid  no  heed,  when  any  body 
was  with  me ;  only  we  drew  more  close  together,  and  barred 
the  doors  at  sunset. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

MASTER    HUCKABACK    COMES    IN. 

Mr.  Eeuben  Huckaback,  whom  many  good  folk  in  Dulver- 
ton  will  remember  long  after  my  time,  was  my  mother's  uncle, 
being  indeed  her  mother's  brother.  He  owned  the  very  best 
shop  in  the  town,  and  did  a  fine  trade  in  soft  ware,  especially 
when  the  pack-horses  came  safely  in  at  Christmas-time.  And 
we  being  now  his  only  kindred  (except  indeed  his  grand- 
daughter, little  Ruth  Huckaback,  of  whom  no  one  took  any 
heed),  mother  beheld  it  a  Christian  duty  to  keep  as  well  as 
could  be  with  him,  both  for  love  of  a  nice  old  man,  and  for 
the  sake  of  her  children.  And  truly,  the  Dulverton  people 
said  that  he  was  the  richest  man  in  their  town,  and  could  buy 
up  half  the  county  armigers ;  ay,  and  if  it  came  to  that,  they 
would  like  to  see  any  man,  at  Bampton,  or  at  Wivelscombe, 
and  you  might  say  almost  Taunton,  who  could  put  down 
golden  Jacobus  and  Carolus  against  him. 


MASTER   HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  85 

Now  this  old  gentleman  —  so  they  called  him,  according  to 
his  money;  and  I  have  seen  many  worse  ones,  more  violent 
and  less  wealthy  —  he  must  needs  come  away  that  time  to 
spend  the  Xew  Year-tide  with  us ;  not  that  he  wanted  to  do  it 
(for  he  hated  country  life),  but  because  my  mother  pressing, 
as  mothers  will  do  to  a  good  bag  of  gold,  had  wrung  a  prom- 
ise from  him;  and  the  only  boast  of  his  life  was,  that  never 
yet  had  he  broken  his  word,  at  least  since  he  opened  business. 

Now  it  pleased  G-od,  that  Christmas-time  (in  spite  of  all 
the  fogs)  to  send  safe  home  to  Dulverton,  and  what  was  more, 
with  their  loads  quite  safe,  a  goodly  string  of  pack-horses. 
Nearly  half  of  their  charge  was  for  Uncle  Reuben,  and  he 
knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Then,  having  balanced 
his  debits  and  credits,  and  set  the  writs  running  against 
defaulters,  as  behoves  a  good  Christian  at  Christmas-tide,  he 
saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  off  towards  Oare,  with  a  warm 
stout  coat  upon  him,  leaving  Ruth  and  his  headman  plenty  to 
do,  and  little  to  eat,  until  they  should  see  him  again. 

It  had  been  settled  between  us,  that  we  should  expect  him 
soon  after  noon,  on  the  last  day  of  December.  For  the  Doones 
being  lazy  and  fond  of  bed,  as  the  manner  is  of  dishonest  folk, 
the  surest  way  to  escape  them  was  to  travel  before  they  were 
up  and  about,  to  wit,  in  the  forenoon  of  the  day.  But  herein 
we  reckoned  without  our  host :  for  being  in  high  festivity,  as 
became  good  Papists,  the  robbers  were  too  lazy,  it  seems,  to  take 
the  trouble  of  going  to  bed ;  and  forth  they  rode  on  the  Old 
Year-morning,  not  with  any  view  to  business,  but  purely  in 
search  of  mischief. 

We  had  put  off  our  dinner  till  one  o'clock  (which  to  me  was 
a  sad  foregoing),  and  there  was  to  be  a  brave  supper  at  six  of 
the  clock,  upon  New  Year's-eve;  and  the  singers  to  come  with 
their  lanthorns,  and  do  it  outside  the  parlor-window,  and  then 
have  hot  cup  till  their  heads  should  go  round,  after  making 
away  with  the  victuals.  For  although  there  was  nobody  now 
in  our  family  to  be  churchwarden  of  Oare,  it  was  well  admitted 
that  we  were  the  people  entitled  alone  to  that  dignity;  and 
though  Nicholas  Snowe  was  in  office  by  name,  he  managed  it 
only  by  mother's  advice;  and  a  pretty  mess  he  made  of  it,  so 
that  every  one  longed  for  a  Ridd  again,  soon  as  ever  I  should 
be  old  enough.  —  This  Nicholas  Snowe  was  to  come  in  the  even- 
ing, with  his  three  tall  comely  daughters,  strapping  girls,  and 
well  skilled  in  the  dairy ;  and  the  story  was  all  over  the  parish, 
on  a  stupid  conceit  of  John  Fry's,  that  I  should  have  been  in 
love  with  all  three,  if  there  had  been  but  one  of  them.     These 


86  LORN  A   BOONE. 

Snowes  were  to  come,  and  come  tliey  did,  partly  because  Mr. 
Huckaback  liked  to  see  line  young  maidens,  and  partly  because 
none  but  Nicholas  Snowe  could  smoke  a  pipe  yet  all  around 
our  parts,  except  of  the  very  high  people,  whom  we  durst  never 
invite.  And  Uncle  Ben,  as  we  all  knew  well,  was  a  great  hand 
at  his  pipe,  and  would  sit  for  hours  over  it,  in  our  warm 
chimney-corner,  and  never  want  to  say  a  word,  unless  it  were 
inside  him;  only  he  liked  to  have  somebody  there  over  against 
him  smoking. 

Now  when  I  came  in,  before  one  o'clock,  after  seeing  to  the 
cattle  —  for  the  day  was  thicker  than  ever,  and  we  must  keep 
the  cattle  close  at  home,  if  we  wished  to  see  any  more  of  them 
—  I  fully  expected  to  find  Uncle  Ben  sitting  in  the  fireplace, 
lifting  one  cover  and  then  another,  as  his  favorite  manner  was, 
and  making  sweet  mouths  over  them ;  for  he  loved  our  bacon 
rarely,  and  they  had  no  good  leeks  at  Dulverton ;  and  he  was 
a  man  who  always  would  see  his  business  done  himself.  But 
there  instead  of  my  finding  him  with- his  quaint  dry  face  pulled 
out  at  me,  and  then  shut  up  sharp  not  to  be  cheated  —  who 
should  run  out  but  Betty  Muxworthy,  and  poke  me  with  a 
saucepan-lid. 

"  Get  out  of  that  now,  Betty,"  I  said  in  my  politest  manner; 
for  really  Betty  was  now  become  a  great  domestic  evil.  She 
would  have  her  own  way  so,  and  of  all  things  the  most  distress- 
ful was  for  a  man  to  try  to  reason  with  her. 

"Zider-press,"  cried  Betty  again,  for  she  thought  it  a  fine 
joke  to  call  me  that,  because  of  my  size,  and  my  hatred  of  it; 
"here  be  a  rare  get  up,  anyhow." 

"  A  rare  good  dinner,  you  mean,  Betty.  Well,  and  I  have 
a  rare  good  appetite."  With  that  I  wanted  to  go  and  smell  it, 
and  not  to  stop  for  Betty. 

"  Troost  thee  for  thiccy,  Jan  Eidd.  But  thee  must  keep  it 
bit  langer,  I  rackon.  Her  baint  coom.  Master  Zider-press. 
Whatt'e  mak  of  that  now?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Uncle  Ben  has  not  arrived  yet, 
Betty?" 

"Raived!  I  knaws  nout  about  that,  whuther  a  hath  or  noo. 
Only  I  tell  'e,  her  baint  coom.  Rackon  them  Dooneses  hath 
gat  'un." 

And  Betty,  who  hated  Uncle  Ben,  because  he  never  gave  her 
a  groat,  and  she  was  not  allowed  to  dine  with  him,  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  Betty  Muxworthy  grinned  all  across,  and  poked  me 
again  with  the  greasy  saucepan-cover.  But  I,  misliking  so  to 
be  treated,  strode  through  the  kitchen  indignantly,  for  Betty 
behaved  to  me  even  now.  as  if  I  were  only  Eliza. 


MASTER   HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  87 

"Oh  Johnny,  Johnny,"  my  mother  cried,  running  out  of  the 
grand  show-parlor,  Avhere  the  case  of  stuffed  birds  was,  and 
peacock  feathers,  and  the  white  hare  killed  by  grandfather: 
"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come  at  last.  There  is  something  sadly 
amiss,  Johnny." 

Mother  had  upon  her  wrists  something  very  wonderful,  of 
the  nature  of  fal-lal  as  we  say,  and  for  which  she  had  an  inborn 
turn,  being  of  good  draper  family,  and  polished  above  the  yeo- 
manry. Nevertheless  I  could  never  bear  it,  partly  because  I 
felt  it  to  be  out  of  place  in  our  good  farm-house,  partly  because 
I  hate  frippery,  partly  because  it  seemed  to  me  to  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  father,  and  partly  because  I  never  could  tell  the 
reason  of  my  hating  it.  And  yet  the  poor  soul  had  put  them 
on,  not  to  show  her  hands  off  (which  were  above  her  station), 
but  simply  for  her  children's  sake,  because  Uncle  Ben  had 
given  them.  But  another  thing,  I  never  could  bear  for  man  or 
woman  to  call  me,  "Johnny."  "Jack,"  or  "John,"  T  cared 
not  which-,  and  that  was  honest  enough,  and  no  smallness  of 
me  there,  I  say. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  the  matter,  then?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  need  not  be  angry,  Jolmny.  I  only  hope  it 
is  nothing  to  grieve  about,  instead  of  being  angry.  You  are 
very  sweet-tempered,  I  know,  John  Eidd,  and  perhaps  a  little 
too  sweet  at  times," — here  she  meant  the  Snowe  girls,  and  I 
hanged  my  head  —  "but  what  would  you  say  if  the  people 
there  "  —  she  never  would  call  them  "  Doones  "  —  "  had  gotten 
your  poor  Uncle  Eeuben,  horse,  and  Sunday  coat,  and  all?" 

"  Why,  mother,  I  should  be  sorry  for  them.  He  would  set  up 
a  shop  by  the  river-side,  and  come  away  with  all  their  money." 

" That  all  you  have  to  say,  John!  And  my  dinner  done  to  a 
very  turn,  and  the  supper  all  fit  to  go  down,  and  no  worry,  only 
to  eat  and  be  done  with  it !  And  all  the  new  plates  come  from 
Watchett,  with  the  Watchett  blue  upon  them,  at  the  risk  of 
the  lives  of  every  body,  and  the  capias  from  good  Aunt  Jane  for 
stuffing  a  curlew  with  onion  before  he  begins  to  get  cold,  and 
make  a  woodcock  of  him,  and  the  way  to  turn  the  flap  over  in 
the  inside  of  a  roasting  pig  " 

"  Well,  mother  dear,  I  am  very  sorry.  But  let  us  have  our 
dinner.  You  know  we  promised  not  to  wait  for  him  after  one 
o'clock;  and  you  only  make  us  hungry.  Every  thing  will  be 
spoiled,  mother,  and  what  a  i)ity  to  think  of!  After  that  I 
will  go  to  seek  for  him  in  tlie  tliick  of  the  fog,  like  a  needle  in 
a  hay-band.  That  is  to  say,  unless  you  think  "  —  for  she 
looked  very  grave  about  it  —  "unless  you  really  think, 
mother,   that  I  ouo'ht  to  go  Avithout  dinner." 


88  LORNA   DOONE. 

'^  Oh  no,  John,  I  never  thought  that,  thank  God !  Bless  Him 
for  my  children's  appetites ;  and  what  is  Uncle  Ben  to  them?  " 

So  we  made  a  very  good  dinner  indeed,  though  wishing  that 
he  could  have  some  of  it,  and  Avondering  how  much  to  leave 
for  him ;  and  then,  as  no  sound  of  his  horse  had  been  heard,  I 
set  out  with  my  gun  to  look  for  him. 

I  followed  the  track  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  from  the  farm- 
yard, where  the  sledd-marks  are  —  for  Ave  have  no  Avheels  upon 
Exmoor  yet,  nor  ever  shall,  I  suppose;  though  a  dunder-headed 
man  tried  it  last  Avinter,  and  broke  his  axle  piteoiisly,  and  Avas 
nigh  to  break  his  neck  —  and  after  that  I  Avent  all  along  on  the 
ridge  of  the  rabbit-cleve,  Avith  the  brook  running  thin  in  the 
bottom;  and  then  doAvn  to  the  Lynn -stream,  and  leaped  it,  and 
so  up  the  hill  and  the  moor  beyond.  The  fog  hung  close  all 
around  me  there,  Avhen  I  turned  the  crest  of  the  highland,  and 
the  gorse,  both  before  and  behind  me,  looked  like  a  man  crouch- 
ing doAvn  in  ambush.  But  still  there  was  a  good  cloud  of  day- 
light, being  scarce  three  of  the  clock  yet,  and  when  a  lead  of 
red  deer  came  across,  I  could  tell  them  from  sheep  even  now. 
I  Avas  half  inclined  to  shoot  at  them,  for  the  children  did  love 
venison;  but  they  drooped  their  heads  so,  and  looked  so  faith- 
ful, that  it  seemed  hard  measure  to  do  it.  If  one  of  them  had 
bolted  aAvay,  no  doubt  I  had  let  go  at  him. 

After  that  I  kept  on  the  track,  trudging  very  stoutly, 
for  nigh  upon  three  miles,  and  my  beard  (now  beginning  to 
grow  at  some  length)  Avas  full  of  great  drops  and  prickly, 
whereat  I  Avas  very  proud.  I  had  not  so  much  as  a  dog  Avith 
me,  and  the  place  Avas  unkid  and  lonesome,  and  the  rolling 
clouds  very  desolate;  and  noAV  if  a  Avild  sheep  ran  across, 
he  Avas  scared  at  me  as  an  enemy ;  and  I  for  my  part  coilld  not 
tell  the  meaning  of  the  marks  on  him.  We  called  all  this  part 
"  Gibbet-moor,"  not  being  in  our  parish;  but  though  there  were 
gibbets  enough  upon  it,  most  part  of  the  bodies  Avas  gone,  for  the 
value  of  the  chains,  they  said,  and  the  teaching  of  young  chirur- 
geons. 

But  of  all  this  I  had  little  fear,  being  no  more  a  school-boy 
now,  but  a  youth  Avell  acquaint  with  Exmoor,  and  the  wise  art 
of  the  sign-posts,  Avhereby  a  man,  Avho  barred  the  road,  now 
leads  us  along  it  Avith  his  finger-bones,  so  far  as  rogues  alloAv 
him.  My  carbine  was  loaded  and  freshly  primed,  and  I  knew 
myself  to  be  even  now  a  match  in  strength  for  any  tAvo  men  of 
the  size  around  our  neighborhood,  except  in  the  Glen  Doone. 

"  Girt  Jan  Ptidd,"  I  Avas  called  already,  and  folk  grcAV  feared 
to  Avrestle  with  me ;  though  I  Avas  tired  of  hearing  about  it,  and 


MASTER   HUCKABACK  COMES   IN.  89 

often  longed  to  be  smaller.  And  most  of  all  upon  Sundays, 
when  I  had  to  make  way  up  our  little  church,  and  the  maidens 
tittered  at  me. 

The  soft  white  mist  came  thicker  around  me,  as  the  evening 
fell ;  and  the  peat-ricks  here  and  there,  and  the  furze-hucks  of 
the  summer-time,  were  all  out  of  shape  in  the  twist  of  it.  By- 
and-by,  I  began  to  doubt  where  I  was,  or  how  come  there,  not 
having  seen  a  gibbet  lately ;  and  then  I  heard  the  draught  of 
the  wind  up  a  hollow  place  with  rocks  to  it;  and  for  the  first 
time  fear  broke  out  (like  cold  sweat)  upon  me.  And  yet  I  knew 
what  a  fool  I  was,  to  fear  nothing  but  a  sound!  But  when  I 
stopped  to  listen,  there  was  no  sound,  more  than  a  beating 
noise,  and  that  was  all  inside  me.  Therefore  I  went  on  again, 
making  company  of  my  whistle,  and  keeping  my  gun  quite 
ready. 

Now  when  I  came  to  an  unknown  place,  where  a  stone  was 
set  up  endwise,  with  a  faint  red  cross  upon  it,  and  a  polish 
from  some  conflict,  I  gathered  my  courage  to  stop  and  think, 
having  sped  on  the  way  too  hotly.  Against  that  stone  I  set 
my  gun,  trying  my  spirit  to  leave  it  so,  bi\t  keeping  with  half 
a  hand  for  it ;  and  then  what  to  do  next  was  the  wonder.  As 
for  finding  Uncle  Ben  —  that  was  his  own  business,  or  at  any 
rate  his  executor's;  first  I  had  to  find  myself,  and  plentifully 
would  thank  God  to  find  that  self  at  home  again,  for  the  sake 
of  all  our  family. 

The  volumes  of  the  mist  came  rolling  at  me  (like  great  packs 
of  wool,  pillowed  up  with  sleepiness),  and  between  them  there 
was  nothing  more  than  waiting  for  the  next  one.  Then  every- 
thing went  out  of  sight,  and  glad  was  I  of  the  stone  behind  me, 
and  view  of  mine  own  shoes.  Anon  a  distant  noise  went  by 
me,  as  of  many  horses  galloping,  and  in  my  fright  I  set  my 
gun,  and  said,  "God  send  something  to  shoot  at."  Yet  noth- 
ing came,  and  my  gun  fell  back,  without  my  will  to  lower  it. 

But  presently,  while  I  was  thinking  "What  a  fool  I  am!" 
arose  as  if  from  below  my  feet,  so  that  the  great  stone  trembled, 
that  long  lamenting  lonesome  sound,  as  of  an  evil  spirit  not 
knowing  what  to  do  with  it.  For  the  moment  I  stood  like  a 
root,  without  either  hand  or  foot  to  help  me ;  and  the  hair  of 
my  head  began  to  crawl,  lifting  my  hat,  as  a  snail  lifts  his 
house;  and  my  heart,  like  a  shuttle,  went  to  and  fro.  But 
finding  no  harm  to  come  of  it,  neither  visible  form  approach- 
ing, I  wiped  my  forehead,  and  hoped  for  the  best,  and  resolved 
to  run  every  step  of  the  way,  till  I  drew  our  big  bolt  behind 


90'  LORXA   nooxE. 

Yet  here  again  I  was  disappointed,  for  no  sooner  Avas  I  come 
to  the  crossways  by  the  black  pool  in  the  hole,  but  I  heard 
through  the  patter  of  my  own  feet  a  rough  low  sound,  very  close 
in  the  fog,  as  of  a  hobbled  sheep  a-coughing.  I  listened,  and 
feared,  and  yet  listened  again,  though  I  wanted  not  to  hear  it. 
For  being  in  haste  of  the  homeward  road,  and  all  my  heart 
having  heels  to  it,  loth  I  was  to  stop  in  the  dusk,  for  the  sake 
of  an  aged  wether.  Yet  partly  my  love  of  all  animals,  and 
partly  my  fear  of  the  farmer's  disgrace,  compelled  me  to  go  to 
the  succor,  for  the  noise  was  coming  nearer.  A  dry  short 
wheezing  sound  it  was,  barred  with  coughs,  and  want  of  breath; 
but  thus  I  made  the  meaning  of  it. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me !  0  Lord,  upon  my  soul  have 
mercy!  An'  if  I  cheated  Sam  Hicks  last  Aveek,  Lord  knowest 
how  well  he  deserved  it,  and  lied  in  every  stocking's  mouth 
—  oh  Lord,  where  be  I  a-going?" 

These  words,  with  many  jogs  between  them,  came  to  me 
through  the  darkness,  and  then  a  long  groan,  and  a  choking.  I 
made  towards  the  sound,  as  nigh  as  ever  I  could  guess,  and 
presently  was  met,  point-blank,  by  the  head  of  a  mountain- 
pony.  Upon  its  back  lay  a  man,  bound  down,  with  his  feet  on 
the  neck  and  his  head  to  the  tail,  and  his  arms  falling  down 
like  stirrups.  The  wild  little  nag  was  scared  of  its  life  by  the 
unaccustomed  burden,  and  had  been  tossing  and  rolling  hard, 
in  desire  to  get  ease  of  it. 

Before  the  little  horse  could  turn,  I  caught  liim,  jaded  as  he 
was,  by  his  wet  and  grizzled  forelock,  and  he  saw  that  it  Avas 
vain  to  struggle,  but  strove  to  bite  me  none  the  less,  until  I 
smote  him  upon  the  nose. 

"  Good  and  worthy  sir,"  I  said  to  the  man  Avho  Avas  riding  so 
roughly;  "fear  nothing:  no  harm  shall  come  to  thee." 

"Help,  good  friend,  AAdioever  thou  art,"  he  gasped,  but  could 
not  look  at  me,  because  his  neck  Avas  jerked  so;  "God  hath 
sent  thee;  and  not  to  rol)  me,  because  it  is  done  already." 

"What,  Uncle  Ben!  "  I  cried,  letting  go  the  horse,  in  amaze- 
ment that  the  richest  man  in  Dulverton  —  "  Uncle  Ben  here  in 
this  plight !  What,  Mr.  Reuben  Huckaback !  " 
*  "An  honest  hosier  and  draper,  serge  and  long-cloth  Avare- 
houseman  "  —  he  groaned  from  rib  to  rib  —  "  at  the  sign  of  the 
Gartered  Kitten,  in  the  loyal  town  of  Dulverton.  For  God's 
sake,  let  me  doAvn,  good  felloAV,  from  this  accursed  hurdle- 
chine  ;  and  a  groat  of  good  money  will  I  pay  thee,  safe  in  my 
house  to  Dulverton;  but  take  notice  that  the  liorse  is  mine,  no 
less  than  the  nag  they  robbed  from  me." 


PIASTER    HUCKABACK   COMES   ly.  91 


"  AVliat,  Uncle  Ben,  dost  tliou  not  know  nie,  thy  dutiful 
nephew,  John  Kidd?'' 

jSTot  to  make  a  long  story  of  it,  I  cut  the  thongs  that  bounrl 
him,  and  set  him  astride  on  the  little  horse;  but  he  was  too 
weak  to  stay  so.  Therefore  I  mounted  him  on  my  back,  turn- 
ing the  horse  into  horse-steps;  and  leading  the  pony  by  the 
cords,  which  I  fastened  around  his  nose,  set  out  for  Plover's 
Barrows. 

Uncle  Ben  went  fast  asleep  on  my  back,  being  jaded  and 
shaken  beyond  his  strength,  for  a  man  of  three-score  and  five ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  felt  assured  of  safety,  he  would  talk  no  more. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,  he  snored  so  loudly,  that  I  could  almost 
believe  that  fearful  noise  in  tlie  fog  every  night  came  all  the 
way  from  Dulverton. 

Now  as  soon  as  ever  I  brought  him  in,  we  set  him  up  in  the 
chimney-corner,  comfortable  and  handsome ;  and  it  was  no  little 
delight  to  me  to  get  him  oft'  my  back;  for,  like  his  own  fortune. 
Uncle  Ben  was  of  a  good  round  figure.  He  gave  his  long  coat 
a  shake  or  two,  and  he  stamped  about  in  the  kitchen,  until  he 
was  sure  of  his  whereabouts,  and  then  he  fell  asleep  again,  until 
supper  should  be  ready. 

"He  shall  marry  Ruth,"  he  said  by-and-by,  to  himself  and 
not  to  me;  "he  shall  marry  Ruth  for  this,  and  have  my  little 
savings,  soon  as  they  be  worth  the  having.  Very  little  as  yet, 
very  little  indeed ;  and  ever  so  much  gone  to-day,  along  of  them 
rascal  robbers." 

My  mother  made  a  dreadful  stir,  to  see  Uncle  Ben  in  such 
a  sorr}^  plight  as  this ;  so  I  left  him  to  her  care  and  Annie's ; 
and  soon  they  fed  him  rarely,  while  I  went  out  to  look  to  the 
comfort  of  the  captured  pony.  And  in  truth  he  was  worth  the 
catching,  and  served  us  very  well  afterwards;  though  Uncle 
Ben  was  inclined  to  claim  him  for  his  business  at  Dulverton, 
wdiere  they  have  carts,  and  that  like.  "But,"  I  said,  "you 
shall  have  him,  sir,  and  welcome,  if  you  will  only  ride  him 
home,  as  first  I  found  you  riding  him."  And  with  that  he 
dropped  it. 

A  very  strange  old  man  he  was,  short  in  his  manner,  though 
long  of  body,  glad  to  do  the  contrary  thing  to  what  any  one 
expected  of  him,  and  always  looking  sharply  at  people  as  if  he 
feared  to  be  cheated.  This  surprised  me  much  at  first,  because 
it  showed  his  ignorance  of  what  we  farmers  are  —  an  upright 
race,  as  you  may  find,  scarcely  ever  cheating  indeed,  except 
upon  market-day,  and  even  then  no  more  than  may  be  helped, 
by  reason  of  buyers  expecting  it.     Now  our  simple  ways  were 


92  LOENA   JJOONE. 

a  puzzle  to  him,  as  I  told  him  very  often;  but  he  only  laughed, 
and  rubbed  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  dry  shining  hand; 
and  I  think  he  shortly  began  to  languish  for  want  of  some  one 
to  higgle  with.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  give  him  the  pony, 
because  he  thought  himself  cheated  in  that  case ;  only  he  would 
conclude  that  I  did  it  with  some  view  to  a  legacy. 

Of  course,  the  Doones,  and  nobody  else,  had  robbed  good 
Uncle  Reuben;  and  then  they  grew  sportive,  and  took  his  horse, 
an  especially  sober  nag,  and  bound  the  master  upon  the  wild 
one,  for  a  little  change  as  they  told  him.  For  two  or  three 
hours  they  had  fine  enjoyment,  chasing  him  through  the  fog, 
and  making  much  sport  of  his  groanings;  and  then  waxing 
hungry  they  went  their  way,  and  left  him  to  opportunity. 
Now  Mr.  Huckaback,  growing  able  to  walk  in  a  few  days'  time, 
became  thereupon  impatient,  and  could  not  be  brought  to 
understand  why  he  should  have  been  robbed  at  all. 

"I  have  never  deserved  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  not  knowing 
much  of  Providence,  except  with  a  small  p  to  it;  "I  have  never 
deserved  it,  and  will  not  stand  it;  in  the  name  of  our  lord  the 
King,  not  I !  "  At  other  times  he  would  burst  forth  thus :  — 
•  "Three-score  years  and  five,  have  I  lived  an  honest  and  labo- 
rious life,  yet  never  was  I  robbed  before.  And  now  to  be  robbed 
in  my  old  age ;  to  be  robbed  for  the  first  time  now !  " 

Thereupon,  we  would  kindly  tell  him,  how  truly  thankful  he 
ought  to  be,  for  never  having  been  robbed  before,  in  spite  of 
living  so  long  in  this  world;  and  how  he  was  taking  a  very 
ungrateful,  not  to  say  ungracious,  view,  in  thus  repining  and 
feeling  aggrieved;  when  any  one  else  would  have  knelt  and 
thanked  God,  for  enjoying  so  long  an  immunity.  But  say  what 
we  would,  it  was  all  as  one.  Uncle  Ben  stuck  fast  to  it,  that 
he  had  nothing  to  thank  God  for. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A   MOTION    WHICH    ENDS    IN    A    MULL. 

Instead  of  minding  his  New-Year  pudding,  Master  Hucka- 
back carried  on  so,  about  his  mighty  grievance,  that  at  last  we 
began  to  think  there  must  be  something  in  it,  after  all;  espe- 
cially as  he  assured  us,  that  choice  and  costly  presents  for  the 
young  people  of  our  household  were  among  the  goods  divested. 
But  mother  told  him,  her  children  had  plenty,  and  wanted  no 


A  MOTION    WHICH  ENDS  IN  A   MULL.  93 

gold  and  silver;  and  little  Eliza  spoke  up  and  said,  "You  can 
give  us  the  pretty  things,  Uncle  Ben,  when  we  come  in  the 
suminer  to  see  you." 

Our  mother  reproved  Eliza  for  this,  although  it  was  the  heel 
of  her  own  foot;  and  then  to  satisfy  our  uncle,  she  promised 
to  call  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe,  to  be  of  our  council  that  even- 
ing; "and  if  the  young  maidens  would  kindly  come,  without 
taking  thought  to  smoothe  themselves,  why  it  would  be  all  the 
merrier;  and  who  knew  but  what  Uncle  Huckaback  might  bless 
the  day  of  his  robbery,  &c.  &c. — and  thorough  good  honest 
girls  they  were,  lit  helpmates  either  for  shop  or  farm."  All 
of  which  was  meant  for  me;  but  I  stuck  to  my  platter,  and 
answered  not. 

In  the  evening  Farmer  Snowe  came  up,  leading  his  daughters 
after  him,  like  hllies  trimmed  for  a  fair;  and  Uncle  Ben,  who 
had  not  seen  them  on  the  night  of  his  mishap  (because  word 
had  been  sent  to  stop  them),  was  mightily  pleased,  and  very 
pleasant,  according  to  his  town -bred  ways.  The  damsels  had 
seen  good  company,  and  soon  got  over  their  fear  of  his  wealth, 
and  played  him  a  number  of  merry  pranks,  which  made  our 
mother  quite  jealous  for  Annie,  who  was  always  shy  and  diffi- 
dent. However,  when  the  hot  cup  was  done,  and  before  the 
mulled  wine  was  ready,  we  packed  all  the  maidens  in  the  par- 
lor, and  turned  the  key  upon  them;  and  then  we  drew  near  to 
the  kitchen  fire,  to  hear  Uncle  Ben's  proposal.  Farmer  Snowe 
sat  up  in  the  corner,  caring  little  to  hear  about  any  thing,  but 
smoking  slowly,  and  nodding  backward,  like  a  sheep-dog  dream- 
ing. Mother  was  in  the  settle,  to  attend  him,  knitting  hard, 
as  usual ;  and  Uncle  Ben  took  to  a  three-legged  stool,  as  if  all 
but  that  had  been  thieved  from  him.  However,  he  kept  his 
breath  from  speech,  giving  privilege,  as  was  due,  to  mother. 

"Master  Snowe,  you  are  well  assured,"  said  mother,  color- 
ing like  the  furze,  as  it  took  the  flame  and  fell  over,  "that  our 
kinsman  here  hath  received  rough  harm,  on  his  peaceful  jour- 
ney from  Dulverton.  The  times  are  bad,  as  we  all  know  well, 
and  there  is  no  sign  of  bettering  them;  and  if  I  could  see  our 
Lord  the  King,  I  might  say  things  to  move  him:  nevertheless, 
1  have  had  so  much  of  my  own  account  to  vex  for  " 

"You  are  flying  out  of  the  subject,  Sarah,"  said  Uncle  Ben, 
seeing  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  tired  of  that  matter. 

"Zettle  the  pralimbinaries,"  spoke  Farmer  Snowe,  on  appeal 
from  us ;  "  virst  zettle  the  pralimbinaries ;  and  then  us  knows 
what  be  drivin'  at." 

"Preliminaries  be  damned,  sir,*"  cried  Uncle  Ben.  losing  his 


94  LORN  A   BOONE. 

temper,  "What  preliminaries  were  there,  when  I  was  robbed, 
I  should  like  to  know?  Robbed  in  this  parish,  as  I  can  prove, 
to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  Oare,  and  the  scandal  of  all  England. 
And  I  hold  this  parish  to  answer  for  it,  sir;  this  parish  shall 
make  it  good,  being  a  nest  of  foul  thieves  as  it  is ;  ay,  farmers, 
and  yeomen,  and  all  of  you.  I  will  beggar  every  man  in  this 
parish,  if  they  be  not  beggars  already;  ay,  and  sell  your  old 
church  up  before  your  eyes,  but  what  I  will  have  back  my 
tarlatan,  time-piece,  saddle,  and  dove-tailed  nag." 

Mother  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  Farmer  Snowe ;  and 
we  all  were  sorry  for  Master  Huckaback,  putting  our  hands  up, 
one  to  another,  that  nobody  should  browbeat  him ;  because  we 
all  knew  what  our  parish  was,  and  none  the  worse  for  strong 
language,  however  rich  the  man  might  be.  But  Uncle  Ben 
took  it  a  different  way.  He  thought  that  we  all  were  afraid 
of  him,  and  that  Oare  parish  was  but  as  Moab,  or  Edom,  for 
him  to  cast  his  shoe  over. 

"Nephew  Jack,"  he  cried,  looking  at  me,  when  I  was  think- 
ing what  to  say,  and  finding  only  emptiness;  "you  are  a  heavy 
lout,  sir;  a  bumpkin,  a  clodhopper;  and  I  shall  leave  you 
nothing,  unless  it  be  my  boots  to  grease." 

"Well,  uncle,"  I  made  answer,  "I  will  grease  your  boots,  all 
the  same  for  that,  so  long  as  you  be  our  guest,  sir." 

Xow,  that  answer,  made  without  a  thought,  stood  me  for  two 
thousand  pounds;  as  you  shall  see,  by-and-by,  perhaps. 

"As  to  the  parish,"  my  mother  cried  out,  being  too  hard  set 
to  contain  herself,  "the  j)arish  can  defend  itself,  and  we  may 
leave  it  to  do  so.  But  our  Jack  is  not  like  that,  sir;  and  I 
will  not  have  him  so  spoken  of.  Leave  him  indeed!  Who 
wants  you  to  do  more  than  to  leave  him  alone,  sir;  as  he 
might  have  done  you  the  other  night;  and  as  no  one  else  would 
have  dared  to  do.  And  after  that,  to  think  so  meanly  of  me, 
and  of  my  children !  " 

"Hoity,  toity,  Sarah!  Your  children,  I  suppose,  are  the 
same  as  other  people's." 

■  "  That  they  are  not ;  and  never  will  be ;  and  you  ought  to 
know  it.  Uncle  Reuben,  if  any  one  in  the  world  ought.  Other 
people's  children!  " 

"  Well,  well !  "  Uncle  Reuben  answered ;  "  I  know  very  little 
of  children ;  except  my  little  Ruth,  and  she  is  nothing  wonder- 
ful." 

"I  never  said  that  my  children  were  wonderful.  Uncle  Ben; 
nor  did  I  ever  think  it.     But  as  for  being  good  " 

Here  mother  fetched  out  her  handkerchief,  being  overcome 


A  MOTION    WHICH  ENDS  IN  A   MULL.  9.3 

by  our  goodness;  and  1  told  her,  witli  my  hand  to  my  mouth, 
not  to  notice  him;  though  he  might  be  worth  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  pounds. 

But  Farmer  Sndwe  came  forward  now,  for  he  had  some  sense 
sometimes ;  and  he  thought  it  was  high  time  for  him  to  say  a 
word  for  the  parish. 

''Maister  Huckaback,"  he  began,  pointing  with  his  pipe  at 
him,  the  end  that  was  done  in  sealing-wax,  "tooching  of  what 
you  was  plaized  to  zay  'bout  this  here  parish,  and  no  oother, 
mind  me  no  oother  parish  but  thees,  I  use  the  vreedom,  zur, 
for  to  tell  'e,  that  thee  be  a  laiar." 

Then  Farmer  Nicholas  iSnowe  folded  his  arms  across,  with 
the  bowl  of  his  pipe  on  the  upper  one,  and  gave  me  a  nod,  and 
then  one  to  mother,  to  testify  how  he  had  done  his  duty,  and 
recked  not  what  might  come  of  it.  However,  he  got  little 
thanks  from  us ;  for  the  parish  was  nothing  at  all  to  my  mother, 
compared  with  her  children's  interests:  and  I  thought  it  hard, 
that  an  uncle  of  mine,  and  an  old  man  too,  should  be  called  a 
liar,  by  a  visitor  at  our  fireplace.  For  we,  in  our  rude  part  of 
the  Avorld,  counted  it  one  of  the  worst  disgraces  that  could 
befall  a  man,  to  receive  the  lie  from  any  one.  But  Uncle  Ben, 
as  it  seems,  was  iised  to  it,  in  the  way  of  trade:  just  as  people 
of  fashion  are,  in  the  way  of  courtesy. 

Therefore  the  old  man  only  looked  with  pity  at  Farmer 
Nicholas ;  and  w4th  a  sort  of  sorrow  too,  reflecting  how  much 
he  might  have  made  in  a  bargain  with  such  a  customer,  so 
ignorant,  and  hot-headed. 

"Now  let  us  bandy  words  no  more,"  said  mother,  very 
sweetly;  "nothing  is  easier  than  sharp  words,  except  to  wish 
them  unspoken;  as  I  do  many  and  many' s  the  time,  wdien  I 
think  of  my  good  husband.  But  now  let  us  hear  from  Uncle 
Reuben,  what  he  would  have  us  do,  to  remove  this  disgrace 
from  amongst  us,  and  to  satisfy  him  of  his  goods." 

"I  care  not  for  my  goods,  woman,"  Master  Huckaback 
answered  grandly ;  "  although  they  were  of  large  value,  about 
them  I  say  nothing.  But  what  I  demand  is  this,  the  punish- 
ment of  those  scoundrels." 

"  Zober,  man,  zober!"  cried  Farmer  Nicholas;  "we  be  too 
naigh  Badgery  'ood,  to  spake  like  that  of  they  Dooneses." 

"  Pack  of  cowards !  "  said  Uncle  Reuben,  looking  first  at  the 
door,  however;  "much  chance  I  see  of  getting  redress,  from 
the  valor  of  this  Exmoor !  And  you.  Master  Snowe,  the  very 
man  wdiom  I  looked  to  to  raise  the  country,  and  take  the  lead 
as  churchwarden — why  my  youngest  shopman  would  match 


96  LORNA   BOONE. 

his  ell  against  you.  Pack  of  cowards,"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  ris- 
ing and  shaking  his  lappets  at  us ;  "  don't  pretend  to  answer 
me.  Shake  you  all  off,  that  I  do  —  nothing  more  to  do  with 
you ! " 

AYe  knew  it  useless  to  ansAver  him,  and  conveyed  our  knowl- 
edge to  one  another,  without  any  thing  to  vex  him.  However, 
when  the  mulled  wine  was  come,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  gone 
(the  season  being  Epiphany),  Uncle  Eeuben  began  to  think 
that  he  might  have  been  too  hard  with  us.  Moreover,  he  was 
beginning  now  to  respect  Farmer  Nicholas  bravely,  because  of 
the  way  he  had  smoked  his  pipes,  and  the  little  noise  made 
over  them.  And  Lizzie  and  Annie  were  doing  their  best  — 
for  now  Ave  had  let  the  girls  out  —  to  wake  more  lightsome 
uproar;  also  young  Faith  Snowe  was  toward,  to  keep  the  old 
men's  cups  aflow,  and  hansel  them  to  their  liking. 

So  at  the  close  of  our  entertainment,  when  the  girls  were 
gone  away,  to  fetch  and  light  their  lanthorns  (over  which  they 
made  rare  noise,  bloAving  eaeli  tlie  other's  out,  for  counting  of 
the  sparks  to  come),  Master  Huckaback  stood  up,  Avithout 
much  aid  from  the  crock-saAv,  and  looked  at  mother  and  all 
of  us. 

"Let  no  one  leave  this  place,''  said  he,  "until  I  have  said 
AAdiat  I  Avant  to  say;  for  saving  of  ill-Avill  among  us,  and  groAA^th 
of  cheer  and  comfort.  May  be,  I  have  carried  things  too  far, 
even  to  the  bounds  of  churlishness,  and  beyond  the  bounds  of 
good  manners.  I  Avill  not  unsay  one  A\'"ord  I  have  said,  having 
never  yet  done  so  in  my  life ;  but  I  AA^ould  alter  the  manner  of 
it,  and  set  it  forth  in  this  light.  If  you  folk  upon  Exmoor 
here  are  loth  and  wary  at  fighting,  yet  you  are  braA^e  at  better 
stuff;  the  best  and  kindest  I  ever  kncAv,  in  the  matter  of 
feeding." 

Here  he  sat  down,  Avith  a  glisten  in  his  eyes,  and  called  for 
a  little  mulled  bastard.  All  the  maids,  Avho  A\^ere  noAV  come 
back,  raced  to  get  it  for  him,  but  Annie  of  course  Avas  fore- 
most. And  herein  ended  the  expedition,  a  perilous  and  a  great 
one,  against  the  Doones  of  BagAA^orthy;  an  enterprise  over 
Avhich  AA^e  had  all  talked  plainly  more  than  Avas  good  for  us. 
For  my  part,  I  slept  Avell  that  night,  feeling  myself  at  home 
again,  uoav  that  the  fighting  Avas  put  aside,  and  the  fear  of  it 
turned  to  the  comfort  of  telling  each  other  —  Avhat  Ave  Avould 
have  done. 


quo    WARRANTO?  97 

CHAPTEE  XY. 

QUO    WARRANTO? 

On  the  following  day  Master  Huckaback,  with  some  show 
of  mystery,  demanded  from  my  mother  an  escort  into  a  dan- 
gerous part  of  the  world,  to  which  his  business  compelled  him. 
My  mother  made  answer  to  this,  that  he  was  kindly  welcome 
to  take  our  John  Fry  with  him;  at  which  the  good  clothier 
laughed,  and  said  that  John  was  nothing  like  big  enough,  but 
another  John  must  serve  his  turn,  not  only  for  his  size,  but 
because  if  he  were  carried  away,  no  stone  would  be  left  unturned 
upon  Exmoor,  until  he  should  be  brought  back  again. 

Hereupon  my  mother  grew  very  pale,  and  foimd  fifty  reasons 
against  my  going,  each  of  them  weightier  than  the  true  one,  as 
Eliza  (who  was  jealous  of  me)  managed  to  whisper  to  Annie. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  was  quite  resolved  (directly  the  thing  was 
mentioned)  to  see  Uncle  Eeuben  through  with  it ;  and  it  added 
much  to  my  self-esteem,  to  be  tlie  guard  of  so  rich  a  man. 
Therefore  I  soon  persuaded  mother,  with  her  head  upon  my 
breast,  to  let  me  go,  and  trust  in  G-od;  and  after  that  I  Avas 
greatly  vexed  to  find  that  this  dangerous  enterprise  was  nothing 
more  than  a  visit  to  the  Baron  de  Whichehalse,  to  lay  an 
information,  and  sue  a  warrant  against  the  Doones,  and  a  posse 
to  execute  it. 

Stupid  as  I  always  have  been,  and  perhaps  must  ever  be,  I 
could  well  have  told  Uncle  Reuben,  that  his  journey  was  no 
wiser  one  than  that  of  the  men  of  G-otham ;  that  he  never  would 
get  from  Hugh  de  Whichehalse  a  warrant  against  the  Doones ; 
moreover,  that  if  he  did  get  one,  his  own  wig  would  be  singed 
with  it.  But  for  divers  reasons,  I  held  my  peace ;  partly  from 
youth  and  modest}^,  partly  from  desire  to  see  whatever  please 
God  I  should  see,  and  partly  from  other  causes. 

We  rode  by  way  of  Brendon  town,  Illford  Bridge,  and  Bab- 
brook,  to  avoid  the  great  hill  above  Lynmouth ;  and  the  day 
being  fine  and  clear  again,  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve  at  Uncle 
Reuben  for  all  his  fine  precautions.  When  we  arrived  at  Ley 
Manor,  we  were  shown  very  civilly  into  the  hall,  and  refreshed 
with  good  ale,  and  collared  head,  and  the  back  of  a  Christmas 
pudding.  I  had  never  been  under  so  fine  a  roof  (unless  of  a 
church,  or  school)  before ;  and  it  pleased  me  greatly  to  be  so 
kindly  entreated  by  high-born  folk.     But  Uncle  Reuben  was 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98  LORN  A   BOONE. 

vexed  no  little,  at  being  set  down,  cheek  by  jowl,  witli  a  man 
in  a  very  small  way  of  trade,  who  was  come  upon  some  busi- 
ness there,  and  who  made  bold  to  drink  his  health,  after  finish- 
ing their  first  horns  of  ale. 

"Sir,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  looking  at  him,  ''my  health  would 
fare  much  better,  if  you  would  pay  me  three  pounds  and  twelve 
shillings,  which  you  have  owed  me  tliese  five  years  back;  and 
now  we  are  met  at  the  Justice's,  the  opportunity  is  good,  sir." 

After  that,  we  Avere  called  to  the  Justice-room,  where  the 
Baron  himself  was  sitting,  with  Colonel  Harding,  another  Jus- 
titiary  of  the  King's  peace,  to  help  him.  I  had  seen  the  Baron 
de  Whichehalse  before,  and  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  him,  having 
been  at  school  with  his  son  as  he  knew,  and  it  made  him  very 
kind  to  me.  And  indeed  he  was  kind  to  every  body,  and  all 
our  people  spoke  well  of  him ;  and  so  much  the  more,  because 
we  knew  that  the  house  was  in  decadence.  For  the  first  De 
Whichehalse  had  come  from  Holland,  wdiere  he  had  been  a 
great  nobleman,  some  hundred  and  fifty  years  agone.  Being 
persecuted  for  his  religion,  when  the  Spanisli  power  was  every 
thing,  he  fled  to  England  with  all  he  could  save,  and  bought 
large  estates  in  D.n'onshire.  Since  then  his  descendants  had 
intermarried  with  ancient  county  families,  Cotwells,  and  Mar- 
woods,  and  Walronds,  and  Welslies  of  Pylton,  and  Chichesters 
of  Hall;  and  several  of  the  ladies  brought  them  large  increase 
of  property.  And  so  about  fifty  years  before  the  time  of  which 
I  am  writing,  there  were  few  names  in  the  West  of  England 
thought  more  of  than  De  Whichehalse.  But  now  they  had  lost 
a  great  deal  of  land,  and  therefore  of  that  which  goes  with 
land,  as  surely  as  fame  belongs  to  earth, —  I  mean  big  reputa- 
tion. How  they  had  lost  it,  none  could  tell;  except  that  as 
the  first  descendants  had  a  manner  of  amassing,  so  the  later 
ones  were  gifted  with  a  power  of  scattering.  Wliether  this 
came  of  good  Devonshire  blood  opening  the  sluice  of  Low 
Country  veins,  is  beyond  both  my  province  and  my  power  to 
inquire.  Anyhow  all  people  loved  this  last  strain  of  De 
Whichehalse,  far  more  than  the  name  had  been  liked  a  hundred 
years  agone. 

Hugh  de  Whichehalse,  a  white-haired  man,  of  very  noble 
presence,  with  friendly  blue  eyes,  and  a  sweet  smooth  forehead, 
and  aquiline  nose  quite  beautiful  (as  you  might  expect  in  a  lady 
of  birth),  and  thin  lips  curving  delicately,  this  gentleman  rose 
as  we  entered  the  room;  while  Colonel  Harding  turned  on  his 
chair,  and  struck  one  spur  against  the  other.  I  am  sure  that, 
without  knowing  aught  of  either,  Ave  must  have  reverenced 


quo  w ABB  Ay  TO?  99 

rather  of  the  two  the  one  who  showed  respect  to  us.  And  yet 
nine  gentlemen  out  of  ten  make  this  dull  mistake,  when  deal- 
ing with  the  class  below  them ! 

Uncle  Keuben  made  his  very  best  scrape,  and  then  walked  up 
to  the  table,  trying  to  look  as  if  he  did  not  know  himself  to  be 
wealthier  than  both  the  gentlemen  put  together.  Certainly  he 
was  no  stranger  to  them,  any  more  than  I  was;  and,  as  it 
proved  afterwards.  Colonel  Harding  owed  him  a  lump  of  money, 
upon  very  good  security.  Of  him  Uncle  Reuben  took  no  notice, 
but  addressed  himself  to  De  Whichehalse. 

The  Bjiron  smiled  very  gently,  so  soon  as  he  learned  the 
cause  of  this  visit;  and  then  he  replied  quite  reasonably, 

"  A  warrant  against  the  Doones,  Master  Huckaback?  Which 
of  the  Doones,  so  please  you ;  and  the  Christian  names,  what 
be  they?" 

"My  lord,  I  am  not  their  godfather;  and  most  like  they 
never  had  any.  But  we  all  know  old  Sir  Ensor's  name,  so 
tliat  may  be  no  obstacle." 

"  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  his  sons  —  so  be  it.  How  many  sons, 
Master  Huckaback,  and  what  is  the  name  of  each  one?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  you,  my  lord,  even  if  I  had  known  them  all, 
as  well  as  my  own  shop-boys?  Nevertheless,  there  were  seven 
of  them;  and  that  should  be  no  obstacle." 

"A  warrant  against  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  seven  sons  of  Sir 
Ensor  Doone,  Christian  names  unknown,  and  doubted  if  they 
have  any.  So  far  so  good,  Master  Huckaback.  I  have  it  all 
down  in  writing.  Sir  Ensoj^-  himself  was  there,  of  course,  as 
you  have  given  in  evidence 


"No,  no,  my  lord,  I  never  said  that;  I  never  said 


"  If  he  can  prove  that  he  was  not  there,  you  may  be  indicted 
for  perjury.  But  as  for  those  seven  sons  of  his,  of  course  you 
can  swear  that  they  were  his  sons,  and  not  his  nephews,  or 
grandchildren,  or  even  no  Doones  at  all." 

"  My  lord,  I  can  swear  that  they  were  Doones.  Moreover, 
I  can  pay  for  any  mistake  I  make.  Therein  need  be  no 
obstacle." 

"  Oh  yes,  he  can  pay;  he  can  pay  well  enough;  "  said  Colonel 
Harding  shortly. 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  Baron  pleasantly; 
"  for  it  proves  after  all  that  this  robbery  (if  robbery  there  has 
been)  was  not  so  very  ruinous.  Sometimes  people  think  they 
are  robbed;  and  then  it  is  very  sweet  afterwards  to  find  that 
they  have  not  been  so ;  for  it  adds  to  their  joy  in  their  property. 
Now,  are  you  quite  convinced,  good  sir,  that  these  people   (if 


100  LOHNA  DOONE. 

there  were  any)  stole,  or  took,  or  even  borrowed  anything  at 
all  from  you?" 

"My  lord,  do  you  think  that  1  was  drank?" 

"IsTot  for  a  moment,  Master  Huckaback.  Although  excuse 
might  be  made  for  you,  at  this  time  of  the  year.  But  how  did 
you  know  that  your  visitors  were  of  this  particular  family?" 

"Because  it  could  be  nobody  else.  Because,  in  spite  of  the 
fog" 

"Fog!  "  cried  Colonel  Harding  sharply. 

" Fog!  "  said  the  Baron  Avith  emphasis.  "  Ah,  that  explains 
the  whole  affair.  To  be.  sure,  now  I  remember,  th^  weather 
has  been  too  thick  for  a  man  to  see  the  head  of  his  own  horse. 
The  Doones  (if  still  there  be  any  Doones)  could  never  have 
come  abroad;  that  is  as  sure  as  simony.  Master  Huckaback, 
for  your  good  sake,  I  am  heartily  glad  that  this  charge  has 
miscarried.  I  thoroughly  understand  it  now.  The  fog  ex- 
plains the  whole  of  it." 

"Gro  back,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Colonel  Harding;  "and  if 
the  day  is  clear  enough,  you  will  find  all  your  things  where  you 
left  them.  I  know,  from  my  own  experience,  what  it  is  to  be 
caught  in  an  Exmoor  fog." 

Uncle  Keuben,  by  this  time,  was  so  put  out,  that  he  hardly 
knew  what  he  was  saying. 

"My  lord,  Sir  Colonel,  is  this  your  justice?  H  I  go  to  Lon- 
don myself  for  it,  the  King  shall  know  how  his  commission 
—  how  a  man  may  be  robbed,  and  the  justices  prove  that  he 
ought  to  be  hanged  at  the  back  of  it ;  that  in  his  good  county 
of  Somerset " 

"Your  pardon  a  moment,  good  sir,"  De  Whichehalse  inter- 
rupted him;  "but  I  was  about  (having  heard  your  case)  to 
mention  Avhat  need  be  an  obstacle,  and,  I  fear,  would  prove  a 
fatal  one,  even  if  satisfactory  proof  were  afforded  of  a  felony. 
The  mal-feasance  (if  any)  was  laid  in  Somerset;  but  we,  two 
humble  servants  of  His  Majesty,  are  in  commission  of  his  peace 
for  the  county  of  Devon  only,  and  therefore  could  never  deal 
with  it." 

"And  why,  in  the  name  of  God,"  cried  Uncle  Eeuben,  now 
carried  at  last  fairly  out  of  himself,  "  why  could  you  not  say 
as  much  at  first,  and  save  me  all  this  waste  of  time,  and  worry 
of  my  temper?  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  in  league;  all  of  you 
stick  together.  You  think  it  fair  sport,  for  an  honest  trader, 
who  makes  no  shams  as  you  do,  to  be  robbed  and  well-nigh 
murdered,  so  long  as  they  who  did  it  own  the  high  birth-right 
of  felony.     If  a  poor  sheep-stealer,  to  save  his  children  from 


quo   W ABB  Ay  TO?  ^  101 

dying  of  starvatioiij  had  dared  to  look  at  a  two-mouth  hxmb, 
he  would  swiug  on  the  Manor  gallows,  and  all  of  you  cry  'good 
riddance ! '     But  now,  because  good  birth,  and  bad  manners  " 

Here  poor  Uncle  Ben,  not  being  so  strong  as  before  the 

Doones  had  played  with  him,  began  to  foam  at  the  mouth  a 
little,  and  his  tongue  went  into  the  hollow,  where  his  short 
gray  whiskers  were. 

I  forget  how  we  came  out  of  it;  only  I  was  greatly  shocked 
at  bearding  of  the  gentry  so,  and  mother  scarce  could  see  her 
way,  when  I  told  her  all  about  it.  ''  Depend  upon  it  you  were 
wrong,  John, "  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  her ;  though  what  had 
I  done  but  listen,  and  touch  my  forelock,  when  called  upon? 
''John,  you  ma}'  take  my  word  for  it,  you  have  not  done  as  you 
should  have  done.  Your  father  would  have  been  shocked  to 
think  of  going  to  Baron  de  Whichehalse,  and  in  his  own  house 
insulting  him !  And  yet  it  was  very  brave  of  you,  John.  Just 
like  you,  all  over.  And  (as  none  of  the  men  are  here,  dear 
John)  I  am  proud  of  you  for  doing  it." 

All  throughout  the  homeward  road.  Uncle  Ben  had  been  very 
silent,  feeling  much  displeased  with  himself,  and  still  more 
so  with  other  people.  But  before  he  w^ent  to  bed  that  night, 
he  just  said  to  me,  "  Nephew  Jack,  you  have  not  behaved  so 
badly  as  the  rest  to  me.  And  because  you  have  no  gift  of  talk- 
ing, I  think  that  I  may  trust  you.  Now,  mark  my  words,  this 
villain  job  shall  not  have  ending  here.  I  have  another  card  to 
play." 

"  You  mean,  sir,  I  suppose,  that  you  will  go  to  the  justices 
of  this  county;  Squire  Maunder,  or  Sir  Eichard  Blewitt, 
or  " 

"Oaf,  I  mean  nothing  of  the  sort;  they  would  only  make  a 
laughing-stock,  as  those  Devonshire  people  did,  of  me.  No,  I 
will  go  to  the  King  himself,  or  a  man  who  is  bigger  than  the 
King,  and  to  wdiom  I  have  ready  access.  I  will  not  tell  thee 
his  name  at  present;  only  if  thou  art  brought  before  him, 
never  wilt  thou  forget  it."  That  was  true  enough,  by-the-by, 
as  I  discovered  afterwards ;  for  the  man  he  meant  was  Judge 
Jeffreys. 

"  And  when  are  you  likely  to  see  him,  sir?  " 

"  May  be  in  the  spring,  may  be  not  until  summer ;  for  I  can- 
not go  to  London  on  purpose,  but  when  my  business  takes  me 
there.  Only  remember  my  words.  Jack,  and  when  you  see  the 
man  I  mean,  look  straight  at  him,  and  tell  no  lie.  He  will 
make  some  of  your  zany  squires  shake  in  their  shoes,  I  reckon. 
NoA\^,  I  have  been  in  this  lonely  hole,  far  longer  than  I  intended, 


102  LORNA   BOONE. 

by  reason  of  this  rage;  yet  I  will  stay  here  one  day  more,  upon 
a  certain  condition." 

"  Upon  what  condition,  Uncle  Ben?  I  grieve  that  you  find 
it  so  lonely.  We  will  have  Farmer  Nicholas  up  again,  and  the 
singers,  and" 

"  The  fashionable  milkmaids.  I  thank  you,  let  me  be.  The 
wenches  are  too  loud  for  me.  Your  Nanny  is  enough.  Nanny 
is  a  good  child,  and  she  shall  come  and  visit  me."  Uncle 
E-euben  would  ahvays  call  her  "  Nanny ;  "  he  said  that "  Annie  " 
was  too  fine  and  Frenchified  for  us.  ^'But  my  condition  is 
this.  Jack  —  that  you  shall  guide  me  to-morrow,  without  a 
word  to  any  one,  to  a  place  Avhere  I  may  well  descry  the  dwell- 
ing of  these  scoundrel  Doones,  and  learn  the  best  way  to  get 
at  them,  when  the  time  shall  come.  Can  you  do  this  for  me? 
I  will  pay  you  well,  boy." 

I  promised  very  readity  to  do  my  best  to  setve  him;  but 
vowed  I  would  take  no  money  for  it,  not  being  so  poor  as  that 
came  to.  Accordingly,  on  the  day  following,  I  managed  to 
set  the  men  at  work  on  the  other  side  of  the  farm,  especially 
that  inquisitive  and  busy-body  Jolm  Fry,  who  would  pry  out 
almost  any  thing,  for  the  pleasure  of  telling  his  wife ;  and  then, 
with  Uncle  Eeuben  mounted  on  my  ancient  Peggy,  I  made  foot 
for  the  westward,  directly  after  breakfast.  Uncle  Ben  refused 
to  go,  unless  I  would  take  a  loaded  gun ;  and  indeed  it  was  always 
wise  to  do  so  in  those  days  of  turbulence;  and  none  the  less 
because  of  late  more  than  usual  of  our  sheep  had  left  their  skins 
behind  them. 

This,  as  I  need  hardly  say,  was  not  to  be  charged  to  the 
appetite  of  the  Doones,  for  they  always  said  that  they  were  not 
butchers  (although  upon  that  subject  might  well  be  two  opin- 
ions) ;  and  their  practice  was  to  make  the  shepherds  kill,  and 
skin,  and  quarter  for  them,  and  sometimes  carry  to  the  Doone- 
gate  the  prime  among  the  fatlings,  for  fear  of  any  bruising, 
which  spoils  the  look  "at  table.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that 
ignorant  folk,  unaware  of  their  fastidiousness,  scored  to  them 
the  sheep  they  lost  by  lower-born  marauders,  and  so  were  afraid 
to  speak  of  it :  and  the  issue  of  this  error  was  that  a  farmer, 
with  five  or  six  hundred  sheep,  could  never  command,  on  his 
Avedding-day,  a  prime  saddle  of  mutton  for  dinner. 

To  return  now  to  my  Uncle  Ben  —  and  indeed  he  would  not 
let  me  go  more  than  three  landyards  from  him  —  there  was  very 
little  said  between  us,  along  the  lane  and  across  the  hill, 
although  the  day  was  pleasant.  I  could  see  that  he  was  half- 
amiss  with  his  mind  about  the  business,  and  not  so  full  of 


QUO    WARHAyTO  ?  103 

security  as  an  elderly  man  should  keep  himself.  Therefore, 
out  I  spake  and  said  — 

"  Uncle  Eeuben,  have  no  fear.  I  know  every  inch  of  the 
ground,  sir;  and  there  is  no  danger  nigh  us." 

"  Fear,  boy  I  Who  ever  thought  of  fear?  'Tis  the  last  thing 
would  come  across  me.     Pretty  things  they  primroses." 

At  once  I  thought  of  Lorna  Doone,  the  little  maid  of  so  many 
years  back,  and  how  my  fancy  went  with  her.  Could  Lorna 
ever  think  of  me?  Was  I  not  a  lout  gone  by,  only  fit  for  loach- 
sticking?  Had  I  ever  seen  a  face  fit  to  think  of  near  her? 
The  sadden  flash,  the  quickness,  the  bright  desire  to  know 
one's  heart,  and  not  withhold  her  own  from  it,  the  soft  with- 
drawal of  rich  eyes,  the  longing  to  love  somebody,  any  body, 
any  thing,  not  imbrued  Avith  wickedness 

My  uncle  interrupted  me,  misliking  so  much  silence  now, 
with  the  naked  woods  falling  over  us.  For  we  were  come  to 
Bagworthy  forest,  the  blackest  and  the  loneliest  place  of  all 
that  keep  the  sun  out.  Even  now  in  winter-time,  with  most 
of  the  wood  unriddled,  and  the  rest  of  it  pinched  brown,  it 
hung  around  us,  like  a  cloak  containing  little  comfort.  I  kept 
quite  close  to  Peggy's  head,  and  Peggy  kept  quite  close  to  me, 
and  pricked  her  ears  at  every  thing.  However,  we  saw  noth- 
ing there,  except  a  few  old  owls  and  hawks,  and  a  magpie 
sitting  all  alone,  until  we  came  to  the  bank  of  the  hill,  where 
the  pony  could  not  climb  it.  Uncle  Ben  was  very  loth  to  get 
off,  because  the  pony  seemed  good  company,  and  he  thought  he 
could  gallop  away  on  her,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst ;  but 
I  persuaded  him  that  now  he  must  go  to  the  end  of  it.  There- 
fore we  made  Peggy  fast,  in  a  place  where  we  could  find  her ; 
and  speaking  cheerfully,  as  if  there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid 
of,  he  took  his  staff,  and  T  my  gun,  to  climb  the  thick 
ascent. 

There  was  now  no  path  of  any  kind;  which  added  to  our 
courage  all  it  lessened  of  our  comfort,  because  it  proved  that 
the  robbers  were  not  in  the  habit  of  passing  there.  And  we 
knew  that  we  could  not  go  astray,  so  long  as  we  breasted  the 
hill  before  us;  inasmuch  as  it  formed  the  rampart,  or  side- 
fence  of  Glen  Doone.  But  in  truth  I  used  the  right  word 
there  for  the  manner  of  our  ascent,  for  the  ground  came  forth 
so  steep  against  us,  and  withal  so  woody,  that  to  make  any 
way  we  must  throw  ourselves  forward,  and  labor,  as  at  a 
breast-plough.  Bough  and  loamy  rungs  of  oak-root  bulged, 
here  and  there,  above  our  heads;  briars  needs  must  speak  with 
us^  using  more  of  tooth  than  tongue;  and  sometimes  bulks  of 


104  LOBNA   BOONE. 

rugged  stone,  like  great  sheep,  stood  across  us.  At  last, 
though,  very  loth  to  do  it,  I  was  forced  to  leave  my  gun  behind, 
because  I  required  one  hand  to  drag  myself  up  the  difficulty, 
and  one  to  help  Uncle  Eeuben.  And  so  at  last  we  gained  the 
top,  and  looked  forth  the  edge  of  the  forest,  where  the  ground 
was  very  stony,  and  like  the  crest  of  a  quarry ;  and  no  more 
trees  between  us  and  the  brink  of  cliff  below,  three  hundred 
yards  below  it  might  be,  all  strong  slope  and  gliddery.  And 
now  for  the  first  time  I  Avas  amazed  at  the  appearance  of  the 
Doones'  stronghold,  and  understood  its  nature.  For  when  I 
had  been  even  in  the  valley,  and  climbed  the  cliffs  to  escape 
from  it,  about  seven  years  agone,  I  was  no  more  than  a  strip- 
ling boy,  noting  little,  as  boys  do,  except  for  their  present 
purpose,  and  even  that  soon  done  with.  But  noAv,  what  with 
the  fame  of  the  Doones,  and  my  own  recollections,  and  Uncle 
Ben's  insistence,  all  my  attention  was  called  forth,  and  the 
end  was  simple  astonishment. 

The  chine  of  highland,  whereon  we  stood,  curved  to  the 
right  and  left  of  us,  keeping  about  the  same  elevation,  and 
crowned  with  trees  and  brushwood.  At  about  half  a  mile  in 
front  of  us,  but  looking  as  if  we  could  throw  a  stone  to  strike 
any  man  upon  it,  another  crest,  just  like  our  own,  bowed 
around  to  meet  it ;  but  failed,  by  reason  of  two  narrow  clefts, 
of  which  we  could  only  see  the  brink.  One  of  these  clefts  was 
the  Doone-gate,  with  a  portcullis  of  rock  above  it;  and  the 
other  was  the  chasm,  by  which  I  had  once  made  entrance. 
Betwixt  them,  Avhere  the  hills  fell  back,  as  in  a  perfect  oval, 
traversed  by  the  winding  water,  lay  a  bright  green  valley, 
rimmed  with  sheer  black  rock,  and  seeming  to  have  sunken 
bodily  from  the  bleak  rough  heights  above.  It  looked  as  if 
no  frost  could  enter,  neither  winds  go  ruffling:  only  spring, 
and  hope,  and  comfort,  breathe  to  one  another.  Even  now 
the  rays  of  sunshine  dwelt,  and  fell  back  on  themselves,  when- 
ever the  clouds  lifted;  and  the  pale  blue  glimpse  of  the  grow- 
ing day  seemed  to  find  young  encouragement. 

But  for  all  that,  Uncle  Eeuben  Avas  none  the  worse  nor 
better.  He  looked  down  into  Glen  Doone  first,  and  sniffed  as 
if  he  were  smelling  it,  like  a  sample  of  goods  from  a  wholesale 
house ;  and  then  he  looked  at  the  hills  over  yonder,  and  then 
he  stared  at  me. 

"  See  what  a  pack  of  fools  they  be  ?  " 

"Of  course  T  do.  Uncle  Ben.  'All  rogues  are  fools,'  was 
my  first  coi)y,  beginning  of  the  alphabet." 

"Pack  of  stuft,  lad.     Though  true  enough,  and  A'ery  good 


LORN  A    GROWiyG   FORMIDABLE.  105 

for  young  people.  But  see  you  not,  how  this  great  Doone 
valley  may  be  taken  in  lialf-an-hour  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  I  do,  uncle ;  if  they  like  to  give  it  up,  I 
mean." 

"  Three  culverins  on  yonder  hill,  and  three  on  the  top  of 
this  one  —  and  we  have  them  under  a  pestle.  Ah,  I  have  seen 
the  wars,  my  lad,  from  Keinton  up  to  Xaseby;  and  I  might 
have  been  a  General  now,  if  they  had  taken  my  advice  " 

But  I  Avas  not  attending  to  him,  being  drawn  awa}-  on  a  sud- 
den by  a  sight  Avhich  never  struck  the  sharp  eyes  of  our  Gen- 
eral. For  I  had  long  ago  descried  that  little  opening  in  the 
cliff,  through  which  I  made  my  exit,  as  before  related,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  valley.  No  bigger  than  a  rabbit-hole  it 
seemed  from  where  we  stood;  and  yet  of  all  the  scene  before 
me,  that  (from  my  remembrance  perhaps)  had  the  most  attrac- 
tion. iS'ow  gazing  at  it,  with  full  thought  of  all  that  it  had 
cost  me,  I  saw  a  little  figure  come,  and  pause,  and  pass  into 
it.  Something  very  light  and  white,  nimble,  smooth,  and  ele- 
gant, gone  almost  before  I  knew  that  any  one  had  been  there. 
And  yet  my  heart  came  to  my  ribs,  and  all  my  blood  was  in 
my  face,  and  pride  within  me  fought  with  shame,  and  vanity 
with  self -contempt;  for  though  seven  years  were  gone,  and  I 
from  boyhood  come  to  manhood,  and  she  must  have  forgotten 
me,  and  I  had  half-forgotten ;  at  that  moment,  once  for  all,  I 
felt  that  I  was  face  to  face  with  fate  (however  poor  it  might 
be),  weal  or  woe,  in  Lorna  Doone. 


CHAPTEE   XVI. 

LORXA  GROWING  FORMIDABLE. 

Havixg  reconnoitred  thus  the  position  of  the  enemy.  Master 
Huckaback  on  the  homeward  road,  cross-examined  me,  in  a 
manner  not  at  all  desirable.  For  he  had  noted  my  confusion, 
and  eager  gaze  at  something  unseen  by  him  in  the  valley ;  and 
thereupon  he  made  up  his  mind  to  know  every  thing  about  it. 
In  this,  however,  he^partly  failed;  for  although  I  was  no  hand 
at  fence,  and  would  not  tell  him  a  falsehood,  I  managed  so  to 
hold  my  peace,  that  he  put  himself  upon  the  wrong  track,  and 
continued  thereon,  with  many  vaunts  of  his  shrewdness  and 
experience,  and  some  chuckles  at  my  simplicity.  Thus  much, 
however,  he  learned  aright,  tliat  I  had  been  in  the  Doone 


106  LOBNA   DOONE. 

valley,  several  years  before,  and  might  be  brought  upon  strong 
inducement  to  venture  there  again.  But  as  to  the  mode  of  my 
getting  in,  the  things  I  saw,  and  my  thoughts  upon  them,  he 
not  only  failed  to  learn  the  truth,  but  certified  himself  into 
an  obstinacy  of  error,  from  which  no  after-knowledge  was  able 
to  deliver  him.  And  this  he  did,  not  only  because  I  happened 
to  say  very  little,  but  forasmuch  as  he  disbelieved  half  of  the 
truth  I  told  him,  through  his  own  too  great  sagacity. 

Upon  one  point,  however,  he  succeeded  more  easily  than  he 
expected,  viz.  in  making  me  promise  to  visit  the  place  again, 
as  soon  as  occasion  offered,  and  to  hold  my  own  counsel  about 
it.  But  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  one  thing,  that  accordiug 
to  his  point  of  view,  my  own  counsel  meant  my  own,  and 
Master  Reuben  Huckaback's. 

Now  he  being  gone,  as  he  went  next  day,  to  his  favorite 
town  of  Dulverton,  and  leaving  behind  him  shadowy  promise 
of  the  mountains  he  would  do  for  me,  my  spirit  began  to  burn, 
and  pant,  for  something  to  go  on  with;  and  nothing  showed  a 
braver  hope  of  movement,  and  adventure,  than  a  lonely  visit  to 
Glen  Doone,  by  way  of  the  perilous  passage  discovered  in  my 
boyhood.  Therefore  I  waited  for  nothing  more  than  the  slow 
arrival  of  new  smallclothes,  made  by  a  good  tailor  at  Porlock, 
for  it  seemed  a  pure  duty  to  look  my  best;  and  when  they  were 
come  and  approved,  I  started,  regardless  of  the  expense,  and 
forgetting  (like  a  fool)  how  badly  they  would  take  the  water. 

What  with  urging  of  the  tailor,  and  my  own  misgivings,  the 
time  was  now  come  round  again  to  the  high-day  of  St.  Valen- 
tine, when  all  our  maids  were  full  of  lovers,  and  all  the  lads 
looked  foolish.  And  none  of  them  more  sheepish,  or  more 
innocent,  than  I  myself,  albeit  twenty-one  years  old,  and  not 
afraid  of  men  much,  but  terrified  of  women,  at  least,  if  they 
were  comely.  And  what  of  all  things  scared  me  most  was  the 
thought  of  my  own  size,  and  knowledge  of  my  strength,  which 
came,  like  knots,  upon  me  daily.  In  honest  truth  I  tell  this 
thing  (wliicli  often  since  hath  puzzled  me,  when  I  came  to  mix 
with  men  more),  I  was  to  that  degree  ashamed  of  my  thick- 
ness, and  my  stature,  in  the  presence  of  a  woman,  that  I  would 
not  put  a  trunk  of  wood  on  the  fire  in  the  kitchen,  but  let 
Annie  scold  me  Avell,  with  a  smile  to  follow,  and  with  her  own 
plump  hands  lift  up  a  little  log,  and  fuel  it.  Many  a  time,  I 
longed  to  be  no  bigger  than  John  Fry  was ;  whom  now  (when 
insolent)  I  took  with  my  left  hand  by  the  waist-stuff,  and  set 
him  on  my  hat,  and  gave  him  little  chance  to  tread  it;  until 
he  spoke  of  his  family,  and  requested  to  come  down  again. 


LORN  A    GROIVING   FORMIDABLE.  107 

Now  taking  for  good  omen  this,  tliat  I  was  a  seven-year  Val- 
entine, though  much  too  big  for  a  Cupidon,  I  chose  a  seven- 
foot  staff  of  ash,  and  fixed  a  loach-fork  in  it,  to  look  as  I  had 
looked  before;  and  leaving  word  upon  matters  of  business,  out 
of  the  back  door  I  went,  and  so  through  the  little  orchard,  and 
down  the  brawling  Lynn-brook.  Not  being  now  so  much 
afraid,  I  struck  across  the  thicket  land  between  the  meeting 
waters,  and  came  upon  the  Bagworthy  stream  near  the  great 
black  whirlpool.  Nothing  amazed  me  so  much  as  to  find  how 
shallow  the  stream  now  looked  to  me,  although  the  pool  was 
still  as  black,  and  greedy,  as  it  used  to  be.  And  still  the 
great  rocky  slide  was  dark,  and  difficult  to  climb;  though  the 
water,  which  once  had  taken  my  knees  was  satisfied  now  with 
my  ankles.  After  some  labor,  I  reached  the  top;  and  halted 
to  look  about  me  well,  before  trusting  to  broad  daylight. 

The  winter  (as  I  said  before)  had  been  a  very  mild  one ;  and 
now  the  spring  was  toward,  so  that  bank  and  bush  were 
touched  with  it.  The  valley  into  which  I  gazed  was  fair  with 
early  promise,  having  shelter  from  the  wind,  and  taking  all 
the  sunshine.  The  willow-bushes  over  the  stream  hung  as  if 
they  were  angling,  with  tasseled  floats  of  gold  and  silver, 
bursting  like  a  bean-pod.  Between  them  came  the  water 
laughing,  like  a  maid  at  her  own  dancing,  and  spread  with  that 
young  blue  which  never  lives  beyond  the  April.  And  on  either 
bank,  the  meadow  ruffled,  as  the  breeze  came  by,  opening 
(through  new  tufts  of  green)  daisy -bud  or  celandine,  or  a  shy 
glimpse  now  and  then  of  the  love-lorn  primrose. 

Though  I  am  so  blank  of  wit,  or  perhaps  for  that  same 
reason,  these  little  things  come  and  dwell  with  me;  and  I  am 
happy  about  them,  and  long  for  nothing  better.  I  feel  with 
every  blade  of  grass,  as  if  it  had  a  history ;  and  make  a  child 
of  every  bud,  as  though  it  knew  and  loved  me.  And  being  so, 
they  seem  to  tell  me  of  my  own  oblivions,  how  I  am  no  more 
than  they,  except  in  self-importance. 

While  I  was  forgetting  much  of  many  things  that  harm  one, 
and  letting  of  my  thoughts  go  wild  to  sounds  and  sights  of 
nature,  a  sweeter  note  than  thrush  or  ouzel  ever  wooed  a  mate 
in,  floated  on  the  valley  breeze,  at  the  quiet  turn  of  sundown. 
The  words  were  of  an  ancient  song,  fit  to  cry  or  laugh  at. 

"Love,  an  if  there  be  one, 
Come  my  love  to  be, 
My  love  ivS  for  the  one 
Loving  unto  me. 


108  LOENA   BOONE. 

"  Not  for  me  the  show,  love, 
Of  a  gilded  bliss  ; 
Only  thou  must  know,  love, 
What  my  value  is. 

"  If  in  all  the  earth,  love, 
Thou  hast  none  but  me, 
This  shall  be  my  worth,  love, 
To  be  cheap  to  thee. 

"But,  if  so  thou  ever 
Strivest  to  be  free, 
'Twill  be  my  endeavor 
To  be  dear  to  thee. 

"  Hence  may  I  ensue,  love, 
All  a  woman's  due  ; 
Comforting  my  true  love, 
,  With  a  love  as  true." 

All  this  I  took  in  with  great  eagerness,  not  for  the  sake  of 
the  meaning  (which  is  no  donbt  an  allegory),  but  for  the 
power,  and  richness,  and  softness  of  the  singing,  which 
seemed  to  me  better  than  we  ever  had  even  in  Oare  church. 
But  all  the  time,  I  kept  myself  in  a  black  niche  of  the  rock, 
where  the  fall  of  the  water  began,  lest  the  sweet  singer  (espy- 
ing me)  should  be  alarmed,  and  flee  away.  But  presently  I 
ventured  to  look  forth,  where  a  bush  was ;  and  then  I  beheld 
the  loveliest  sight  —  one  glimpse  of  which  was  enough  to 
make  me  kneel  in  the  coldest  water. 

By  the  side  of  the  stream,  she  was  coming  to  me,  even 
among  the  primroses,  as  if  she  loved  them  all;  and  every 
flower  looked  the  brighter,  as  her  eyes  were  on  them.  I  could 
not  see  what  her  face  was,  my  heart  so  awoke  and  trembled ; 
only  that  her  hair  was  flowing  from  a  wreath  of  white  violets, 
and  the  grace  of  her  coming  was  like  the  appearance  of  the 
flrst  wind-flower.  The  pale  gleam  over  the  western  cliffs 
threw  a  shadow  of  light  behind  her,  as  if  the  sun  were  linger- 
ing. Never  do  I  see  that  light  from  the  closing  of  the  west, 
even  in  these  my  aged  days,  without  thinking  of  her.  Ah  me, 
if  it  comes  to  that,  v/hat  do  I  see  of  earth  or  heaven,  without 
thinking  of  her  ? 

The  tremulous  thrill  of  her  song  was  hanging  on  her  open 
lips ;  and  she  glanced  around,  as  if  the  birds  were  accustomed 
to  make  answer.  To  me  it  was  a  thing  of  terror  to  behold 
such  beauty,  and  feel  myself  the  while  to  be  so  very  low  and 
common.     But  scarcely  knowing  what  I  did,  as  if  a  rope  were 


LORNA     DOONE.  —  Vol.    I.    p.    io8. 


LORSA    GROWING  FORMIDABLE.  109 

drawing  me,  I  came  from  the  dark  moiitli  of  the  chasm ;  and 
stood,  afraid  to  look  at  her. 

She  was  turning  to  fly,  not  knowing  me,  and  frightened, 
perhaps,  at  my  stature;  when  I  fell  on  the  grass  (as  I  fell 
before  her  seven  years  agone  that  day),  and  I  just  said, 
"  Lorna  Doone !  " 

She  knew  me  at  once,  from  my  manner  and  ways,  and  a 
:;mile  broke  through  her  trembling,  as  sunshine  comes  through 
willow  leaves ;  and  being  so  clever  she  saw,  of  course,  that  she 
needed  not  to  fear  me. 

"Oh,  indeed,"  she  cried,  with  a  feint  of  anger  (because  she 
had  shown  her  cowardice,  and  yet  in  her  heart  she  was  laugh- 
ing); "oh,  if  you  please,  who  are  you,  sir,  and  how  do  you 
know  my  name?" 

"I  am  John  Eidd,"  I  answered;  "the  boy  who  gave  you 
those  beautiful  fish,  when  you  were  only  a  little  thing,  seven 
years  ago  to-day." 

"  Yes,  the  poor  boy  who  was  frightened  so,  and  obliged  to 
hide  here  in  the  water." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  kind  you  w^ere,  and  saved  my 
life  by  your  quickness,  and  went  away  riding  upon  a  great 
man's  shoulder,  as  if  you  had  never  seen  me,  and  yet  looked 
back  through  the  willow-trees?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  everything;  because  it  was  so  rare 
to  see  any,  except,  —  I  mean,  because  I  happen  to  remember. 
But  you  seem  not  to  remember,  sir,  how  perilous  this  place  is." 

For  she  had  kept  her  eyes  upon  me ;  large  eyes,  of  a  soft- 
ness, a  brightness,  and  a  dignity,  which  made  me  feel  as  if  I 
must  for  ever  love,  and  yet  for  ever  know  myself  unworthy. 
Unless  themselves  should  fill  with  love,  which  is  the  spring 
of  all  things.  And  so  I  could  not  answer  her,  but  was  over- 
come with  thinking,  and  feeling,  and  confusion.  Neither  could 
I  look  again;  only  waited  for  the  melody,  which  made  every 
Avord  like  a  poem  to  me,  the  melody  of  her  voice.  But  she 
had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  was  going  on  with  me,  any  more 
than  I  myself  had. 

"I  think.  Master  Kidd,  you  cannot  know,"  she  said,  with 
her  eyes  taken  from  me,  "what  the  dangers  of  this  place  are, 
and  the  nature  of  the  people." 

"Yes,  I  know  enough  of  that;  and  I  am  frightened  greatly, 
all  the  time  when  I  do  not  look  at  you. " 

She  was  too  young  to  ansAver  me,  in  the  style  some  maidens 
would  have  used;  the  manner,  I  mean,  which  now  we  call 
from  ;i  foreign  word  "' coquettish."     And  iiioi'i^  tlian  tliat,  she 


110  LOBNA   BOONE. 

was  trembling,  from  real  fear  of  violence,  lest  strong  hands 
might  be  laid  on  me,  and  a  miserable  end  of  it.  And,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  grew  afraid;  perhaps  from  a  kind  of  sympathy, 
and  because  I  knew  that  evil  comes  more  readily  than  good 
to  us. 

Therefore,  without  more  ado,  or  taking  any  advantage  — 
although  I  would  have  been  glad  at  heart,  if  needs  had  been, 
to  kiss  her  (without  any  thought  of  rudeness)  —  it  struck  me 
that  I  had  better  go,  and  have  no  more  to  say  to  her  until  next 
time  of  coming.  So  would  she  look  the  more  for  me,  and 
think  the  more  about  me,  and  not  grow  weary  of  my  words, 
and  the  want  of  change  there  is  in  me.  For,  of  course,  I  kncAV 
what  a  churl  I  was,  compared  to  her  birth  and  appearance; 
but  meanwhile  I  might  improve  myself,  and  learn  a  musical 
instrument.  "  The  wind  hath  a  draw  after  flying  straw "  is 
a  saying  we  have  in  Devonshire,  made,  peradventure,  by  some- 
body who  had  seen  the  ways  of  women. 

"  Mistress  Lorna,  I  will  depart "  —  mark  you,  I  thought  that 
a  powerful  word  —  "  in  fear  of  causing  disquiet.  If  any  rogue 
shot  me,  it  would  grieve  you;  I  make  bold  to  say  it;  and  it 
would  be  the  death  of  mother.  Few  mothers  have  such  a  son 
as  me.  Try  to  think  of  me,  now  and  then ;  and  I  will  bring 
you  some  new-laid  eggs,  for  our  young  blue  hen  is  beginniiig." 

"I  thank  you  heartily,"  said  Lorna;  "but  you  need  not 
come  to  see  me.  You  can  put  them  in  my  little  bower,  Avhere 
I  am  almost  always  —  I  mean  whither  daily  I  repair;  to  think, 
and  to  be  away  from  them." 

"Only  show  me  where  it  is.  Thrice  a  day,  I  will  come  and 
stop  " 

"Nay,  Master  Kidd,  I  would  never  show  thee  —  never,  be- 
cause of  peril  —  only  that  so  happens  it,  thou  hast  found  the 
way  already." 

And  she  smiled,  with  a  light  that  made  me  care  to  cry  out 
for  no  other  way,  only  the  Avay  to  her  dear  heart.  But  only 
to  myself  I  cried  for  anything  at  all,  having  enough  of  man 
in  me,  to  be  bashful  with  young  maidens.  So  I  touched  her 
white  hand  softly,  when  she  gave  it  to  me ;  and  (fancying  that 
she  had  sighed)  was  touched  at  heart  about  it,  and  resolved  to 
yield  her  all  my  goods,  although  my  mother  was  living;  and 
then  grew  angry  with  myself  (for  a  mile  or  more  of  walking)  to 
think  she  would  condescend  so;  and  then,  for  the  rest  of  the 
homeward  road,  was  mad  with  every  man  in  the  world,  who 
would  dare  to  think  of  looking  at  her. 


JOHN  IS  BEWITCHED.  Ill 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

JOHN    IS    BEWITCHED. 

To  forget  one's  luck  of  life,  to  forget  the  cark  of  care,  and 
withering  of  young  fingers ;  not  to  feel,  or  not  be  moved  by, 
all  the  change  of  thought  and  heart,  from  large  young  heat  to 
the  sinewy  lines,  and  dry  bones  of  old  age  —  that  is  what  I 
have  to  do,  ere  ever  I  can  make  you  know  (even  as  a  dream 
is  known)  how  I  loved  my  Lorna.  I  myself  can  never  know ; 
never  can  conceive,  or  treat  it  as  a  thing  of  reason ;  never  can 
behold  myself  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  think  that  this 
was  I;  neither  can  I  wander  far  from  perpetual  thought  of 
it.  Perhaps  I  have  two  farrows  of  pigs  ready  for  the  chap- 
man; perhaps  I  have  ten  stones  of  wool  waiting  for  the  factor. 
It  is  all  the  same :  I  look  at  both,  and  what  I  say  to  myself  is 
this :  "  Which  would  Lorna  choose  of  them  ?  "  Of  course,  I 
am  a  fool  for  this ;  any  man  may  call  me  so,  and  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  him,  unless  he  guess  my  secret.  By  and  by,  I 
fetch  my  wit,  so  far  as  it  be  worth  the  fetching,  back  again  to 
business.  But  there  my  heart  is,  and  must  be;  and  all  who 
like  to  try  can  cheat  me,  exce^^t  upon  parish  matters. 

That  week,  I  could  do  little  more  than  dream  and  dream, 
and  rove  about,  seeking  by  perpetual  change  to  find  the  way 
back  to  myself.  I  cared  not  for  the  people  round  me,  neither 
took  delight  in  victuals;  but  made  believe  to  eat  and  drink, 
and  blushed  at  any  questions.  And  being  called  the  master 
now,  head-farmer,  and  chief  yeoman,  it  irked  me  much  that 
any  one  should  take  advantage  of  me ;  yet  everybody  did  so, 
as  soon  as  ever  it  was  known  that  my  wits  were  gone  moon- 
raking.  For  that  was  the  way  they  looked  at  it,  not  being 
able  to  comprehend  the  greatness  and  the  loftiness.  Neither 
do  I  blame  them  much;  for  the  wisest  thing  is  to  laugh  at 
people,  when  we  cannot  understand  them.  I,  for  my  part, 
took  no  notice ;  but  in  my  heart  despised  them,  as  beings  of 
a  lesser  nature,  who  never  had  seen  Lorna.  Yet  was  I  vexed, 
and  drank  a  pail  of  water,  when  John  Fry  spread  all  over  the 
farm,  and  even  at  the  shoeing  forge,  that  a  mad  dog  had  come 
and  bitten  me,  from  the  other  side  of  Molland. 

This  seems  little  to  me  now;  and  so  it  might  to  any  one; 
but,  at  the  time,  it  worked  me  up  to  a  fever  of  indignity.  To 
make    a   mad  dog  of  Lorna,  to  compare   all    my   imaginings 


112  LORNA   BOONE. 

(wliicli  were  strange,  I  do  assure  you  —  the  faculty  not  being 
apt  to  work),  to  count  the  raising  of  my  soul  no  more  than 
hydrophobia!  All  this  acted  on  me  so,  that  I  gave  John  Fry 
the  soundest  threshing,  that  ever  a  sheaf  of  good  corn  de- 
served, or  a  bundle  of  tares  was  blessed  with.  Afterwards 
he  went  home,  too  tired  to  tell  his  wife  the  meaning  of  it;  but 
it  proved  of  service  to  both  of  them,  and  an  example  for  their 
children. 

Now  the  climate  of  this  country  is  —  so  far  as  I  can  make  of 
it  —  to  throw  no  man  into  extremes ;  and  if  he  throw  himself 
so  far,  to  pluck  him  back,  by  change  of  weather  and  the  need 
of  looking  after  things.  Lest  we  should  be  like  the  Southerns, 
for  whom  the  sky  does  everything,  and  men  sit  under  a  wall, 
and  watch  both  food  and  fruit  come  beckoning.  Their  sky  is 
a  mother  to  them ;  but  ours  a  good  stepmother  to  us  —  fearing 
to  hurt  by  indulgence,  and  knowing  that  force,  and  change  of 
mood,  are  wholesome. 

The  spring  being  now  too  forward,  a  check  to  it  was  needful; 
and  in  the  early  part  of  March,  there  came  a  change  of  weather. 
All  the  young  growth  Avas  arrested  by  a  dry  wind  from  the  east, 
which  made  both  face  and  lingers  burn,  when  a  man  was  doing 
ditching.  The  lilacs,  and  the  chestnut  trees,  just  crowding 
forth  in  little  tufts,  close  kernelling  their  blossom,  were  ruffled 
back,  like  a  sleeve  turned  up,  and  nicked  with  brown  at  the 
corners.  In  the  hedges  any  man,  unless  his  eyes  were  very 
dull,  could  see  the  mischief  doing.  The  russet  of  the  young 
elm-bloom  was  fain  to  be  in  its  scale  again;  but  having  pushed 
forth,  there  must  be,  and  turn  to  a  tawny  color.  The  hangers 
of  the  hazel,  too,  having  shed  their  dust  to  make  the  nuts,  did 
not  spread  their  little  combs  and  dry  them,  as  they  ought  to 
do ;  but  shrivelled  at  the  base,  and  fell,  as  if  a  knife  had  cut 
them.  And  more  than  all  to  notice  was  (at  least  about  the 
hedges)  the  shuddering  of  everything,  and  the  shivering  sound 
among  them  towards  the  feeble  sun ;  such  as  Ave  make  to  a  poor 
fire-place,  when  windoAVs  and  doors  are  open.  Sometimes,  I 
put  my  face  to  Avarni  against  the  soft,  rough  maple-stem,  Avhich 
feels  like  the  foot  of  a  red  deer;  but  the  pitiless  east  Avind  came 
through  all,  and  took  and  shook  the  caved  hedge  aback,  till  its 
knees  Avere  knocking  together,  and  nothing  could  be  shelter. 
Then  Avould  any  one,  having  blood,  and  trying  to  keep  at  home 
Avith  it,  run  to  a  sturdy  tree,  and  hope  to  eat  his  food  behind 
it,  and  look  for  a  little  sun  to  come,  and  Avarm  his  feet  in  the 
shelter.  And  if  it  did,  he  might  strike  his  breast,  and  try  to 
think  he  was  Avarmer. 


JOHN  IS  BEWITCHED.  113 

But  when  a  man  came  home  at  niglit,  after  a  long  day's 
labor,  knowing  that  the  days  increased,  and  so  his  care  should 
multiply ;  still  he  found  enough  of  light,  to  show  him  what  the 
day  had  clone  against  him  in  his  garden.  Every  ridge  of  new- 
turned  earth  looked  like  a  broken  cob-Avall,  honeycombed,  and 
harsh  and  crusty,  void  of  spring,  and  cankery.  Every  plant, 
that  had  rejoiced  in  passing  such  a  winter,  now  was  cowering, 
turned  away,  unlit  to  meet  the  consequence.  Flowing  sap  had 
stopped  its  course;  fluted  lines  showed  want  of  food;  and  if 
you  pinched  the  topmost  spray,  there  was  no  rebound  or  firm- 
ness. 

We  think  a  good  deal,  in  a  quiet  way,  Avhen  people  ask  us 
about  them  —  of  some  fine,  upstanding  pear-trees,  grafted  by 
my  grandfather,  who  had  been  very  greatly  respected.  And 
he  got  those  grafts  by  sheltering  a  poor  Italian  soldier,  in  t-he 
time  of  James  the  First,  a  man  who  never  could  do  enough  to 
show  his  grateful  memories.  How  he  came  to  our  place  is  a 
very  difficult  story,  which  I  never  understood  rightly,  having 
neard  it  from  my  mother.  At  any  rate,  there  the  pear-trees 
were,  and  there  they  are  to  this  very  day;  and  I  wish  every 
one  could  taste  their  fruit,  old  as  they  are,  and  rugged. 

Now  these  fine  trees  had  taken  advantage  of  the  Avest  winds, 
and  tne  moisture,  and  the  promise  of  fine  spring-time,  so  as  to 
fill  the  tips  of  their  spray -wood  and  rowels  all  up  the  branches, 
with  a  crowd  of  eager  blossom.  Not  that  they  were  yet  in 
bloom,  nor  even  showing  whiteness;  only  that  some  of  the 
coiies  Avere  opening,  at  the  side  of  the  cap  which  pinched  them; 
and  there  you  might  count,  perhaps,  a  dozen  nobs,  like  very 
little  buttons,  but  grooved,  and  lined,  and  huddling  close,  to 
make  room  for  one  another.  And  among  these  buds  were  gray- 
green  blades,  scarce  bigger  than  a  hair  almost,  yet  curving  so 
as  if  their  purpose  was  to  shield  the  blossom. 

Other  of  tlie  spur-points,  standing  on  the  older  wood,  where 
the  sap  was  not  so  eager,  had  not  burst  their  tunic  yet,  but 
were  frayed  and  flaked  with  light,  casting  off  the  husk  of  brown 
in  three-cornered  patches;  as  I  have  seen  a  Scotchman's  plaid, 
or  as  his  leg  shows  through  it.  These  buds,  at  a  distance, 
looked  as  if  the  sky  had  been  raining  cream  upon  them. 

Now  all  this  fair  delight  to  the  eyes,  and  good  promise  to 
the  palate,  was  m-arred  and  bafiled  by  the  wind,  and  cutting  of 
the  night-frosts.  The  opening  cones  were  struck  with  brown, 
in  between  the  button  buds,  and  on  the  scapes  that  shielded 
them ;  while  the  foot  part  of  the  cover  hung  like  rags,  peeled 
back,  and  quivering.     And  there  the  little  stalk  of  each,  which 

VOL.    I.  —  8 


114  LORNA   DOONE. 

might  have  been  a  pear,  God  willing,  had  a  ring  around  its 
base,  and  sought  a  chance  to  drop  and  die.  The  others,  which 
had  not  opened  shell,  but  only  prepared  to  do  it,  were  a  little 
better  off,  but  still  %pry  brown  and  unkid,  and  shrivelling  in 
doubt  of  health,  and  neither  peart  nor  lusty. 

Now  this  I  have  not  told  because  I  know  the  way  to  do  it, 
for  that  I  do  not,  neither  yet  have  seen  a  man  who  did  know. 
It  is  wonderful  how  we  look  at  things,  and  never  think  to 
notice  them;  and  I  am  as  bad  as  any  body,  unless  the  thing  to 
be  observed  is  a  dog,  or  a  horse,  or  a  maiden.  And  the  last  of 
those  three  I  look  at,  somehow,  without  knowing  that  I  take 
notice,  and  greatly  afraid  to  do  it;  only  I  knew  afterwards 
(when  the  time  of  life  was  in  me),  not,  indeed,  what  the 
maiden  was  like,  but  how  she  differed  from  others. 

Yet  I  have  spoken  about  the  spring,  and  the  failure  of  fair 
promise,  because  I  took  it  to  my  heart,  as  token  of  what  would 
come  to  me,  in  the  budding  of  my  years  and  hope.  And  even 
then,  being  much  possessed,  and  full  of  a  foolish  melancholy, 
I  felt  a  sad  delight  at  being  doomed  to  blight  and  loneliness; 
not  but  that  I  managed  still  (when  mother  was  urgent  upon  me) 
to  eat  my  share  of  victuals,  and  cuff  a  man  for  laziness,  and 
see  that  a  ploughshare  made  no  leaps,  and  sleep  of  a  night 
without  dreaming.  And  ni}-  mother,  half-believing,  in  her 
fondness  and  affection,  that  what  the  parish  said  Avas  true  about 
a  mad  dog  having  bitten  me,  and  yet  arguing  that  it  must  be 
false  (because  God  would  have  prevented  him),  my  mother  gave 
me  little  rest,  when  I  was  in  the  room  with  her.  Not  that  she 
worried  me  with  questions,  nor  openly  regarded  me  with  any 
unusual  meaning,  but  that  I  knew  she  was  watching  slyly 
whenever  I  took  a  spoon  up ;  and  every  hour  or  so  she  managed 
to  place  a  pan  of  water  by  me,  quite  as  if  by  accident,  and  some- 
times even  to  spill  a  little  upon  my  shoe  or  coat-sleeve.  But 
Betty  Muxworthy  was  worst;  for,  having  no  fear  about  my 
liealth,  she  made  a  villainous  joke  of  it,  and  used  to  rush 
into  the  kitchen,  barking  like  a  dog,  and  panting,  exclaiming 
that  I  had  bitten  her,  and  justice  she  would  have  on  me,  if  it 
cost  her  a  twelve-month's  wages.  And  she  always  took  care 
to  do  this  thing,  just  when  I  had  crossed  my  legs  in  the  corner 
after  supper,  and  leaned  my  head  against  the  oven,  to  begin  to 
think  of  Lorna. 

However,  in  all  things  there  is  comfort,  if  we  do  not  look  too 
hard  for  it ;  and  now  I  had  much  satisfaction,  in  my  uncouth 
state,  from  laboring,  by  the  hour  together,  at  the  hedging  and 
the  ditching,  meeting  the  bitter  wind  face  to  face,  feeling  my 


JOHN   IS  BEWITCHED.  115 

strength  increase,  and  hoping  that  some  one  Avouhl  be  proud  of 
it.  In  the  rustling  rush  of  every  gust,  in  the  graceful  bend  of 
every  tree,  even  in  the  "Lords  and  Ladies,"  clumped  in  the 
scoops  of  the  hedgerow,  and  most  of  all  in  the  soft  primrose, 
wrung  by  the  wind,  but  stealing  back,  and  smiling  when  the 
wrath  was  past,  —  all  of  these,  and  many  others,  there  was 
aching  ecstasy,  delicious  pang  of  Lorna. 

But  however  cold  the  weather  was,  and  however  hard  the 
wind  blew,  one  thing  (more  than  all  the  rest)  worried  and  per- 
plexed me.  This  was,  that  I  could  not  settle,  turn  and  twist 
it  as  I  might,  how  soon  I  ought  to  go  again  upon  a  visit  to 
Glen  Doone.  For  I  liked  not  at  all  the  falseness  of  it  (albeit 
against  murderers),  the  creeping  out  of  sight,  and  hiding,  and 
feeling  as  a  spy  might.  And  even  more  than  this,  I  feared 
how  Lorna  might  regard  it;  whether  I  might  seem  to  her  a 
prone  and  blunt  intruder,  a  country  youtli  not  skilled  in  man- 
ners, as  among  the  quality,  even  Avhen  they  rob  us.  For  I  was 
not  sure  myself,  but  that  it  might  be  very  bad  manners,  to 
go  again  too  early  without  an  invitation;  and  my  hands  and 
face  were  chapped  so  badly  by  the  bitter  wind,  that  Lorna 
might  count  them  unsightly  things,  and  wish  to  see  no  more 
of  them. 

Hovv^ever,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  consult  any  one  upon 
this  point,  at  least  in  our  own  neighborhood,  nor  even  to  speak 
of  it  near  home.  But  the  east  wind  holding  through  the  month, 
my  hands  and  face  growing  worse  and  worse,  and  it  having 
occurred  to  me  by  this  time  that  possibly  Lorna  might  have 
chaps,  if  she  came  abroad  at  all,  and  so  might  like  to  talk  about 
them,  and  show  her  little  hands  to  me,  I  resolved  to  take 
another  opinion,  so  far  as  might  be  upon  this  matter,  without 
disclosing  the  circumstances. 

Now  the  wisest  person  in  all  our  parts  was  reckoned  to  be  a 
certain  wise  woman,  well  known  all  over  Exmoor  by  the  name 
of  "Mother  Melldrum."  Her  real  name  was  "Maple  Dur- 
ham," as  I  learned  long  afterwards ;  and  she  came  of  an  ancient 
family,  but  neither  of  Devon  nor  Somerset.  Nevertheless  she 
was  quite  at  home  witli  our  projoer  modes  of  divination ;  and 
knowing  that  we  liked  them  best  —  as  each  man  does  his  own 
religion  —  she  would  always  practise  them  for  the  people  of  the 
country.  And  all  the  while,  she  would  let  us  know  that  she 
kept  a  higher  and  nobler  mode,  for  those  who  looked  down 
upon  this  one,  not  having  been  bred  and  born  to  it. 

Mother  Melldrum  had  two  houses,  or  rather  she  had  none  at 
all,  but  two  homes  wherein  to  find  her^  according  to  the  time 


116  LORN  A   DOONE. 

of  year.  In  summer  she  lived  in  a  pleasant  cave,  facing  the 
cool  side  of  the  hill,  far  inland  near  HaAvkridge,  and  close 
above  "Tarr-steps,"  a  wonderful  crossing  of  Barle  river,  made 
(as  every  body  knows)  by  Satan,  for  a  wager.  But  throughout 
the  winter,  she  found  sea-air  agreeable,  and  a  place  where 
things  could  be  had  on  credit,  and  more  occasion  of  talking. 
Not  but  what  she  could  have  credit  (for  every  one  was  afraid  of 
her)  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tarr-steps ;  only  there  was  no  one 
handy  owning  things  worth  taking. 

Therefore,  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  when  the  woods  grew  damp 
and  irksome,  the  wise  woman  always  set  her  face  to  the  warmer 
cliffs  of  the  Channel;  where  shelter  was,  and  dry  fern  bedding, 
and  folk  to  be  seen  in  the  distance,  from  a  bank  upon  which 
the  sun  shone.  And  there,  as  I  knew  from  our  John  Fry  (who 
had  been  to  her  about  rheumatism,  and  sheep  possessed  with 
an  evil  spirit,  and  warts  on  the  hand  of  his  son,  young  John), 
any  one  who  chose  might  find  her,  towards  the  close  of  a  win- 
ter day,  gathering  sticks  and  broAvn  fern  for  fuel,  and  talking 
to  herself  the  while,  in  a  hollow  stretch  behind  the  cliffs; 
which  foreigners,  Avho  come  and  go  without  seeing  much  of 
Exmoor,  have  called  the  "Valley  of  Rocks." 

This  valley,  or  "goyal,"  as  we  term  it,  being  small  for  a 
%^alley,  lies  to  the  west  of  Linton,  about  a  mile  from  the  town 
perhaps,  and  aAvay  towards  Ley  Manor.  Our  homefolk  always 
call  it  the  "Danes,"  or  the  "Denes;"  which  is  no  more,  they 
tell  me,  than  a  hollow  place,  even  as  the  word  "den"  is. 
However,  let  that  pass,  for  I  know  very  little  about  it ;  but  the 
place  itself  is  a  pretty  one;  though  nothing  to  frighten  any 
body,  unless  he  hath  lived  in  a  gallipot.  It  is  a  green  rough- 
sided  hollow,  bending  at  the  middle,  touched  with  stone  at 
either  crest,  and  dotted  here  and  there  with  slabs,  in  and  out 
the  brambles.  On  the  right  hand  is  an  upward  crag,  called  by 
some  the  "Castle,"  easy  enough  to  scale,  and  giving  great  view 
of  the  Channel.  Facing  this,  from  the  inland  side  and  the 
elbow  of  the  valley,  a  queer  old  pile  of  rock  arises,  bold  behind 
one  another,  and  quite  enough  to  affright  a  man,  if  it  only 
were  ten  times  larger.  This  is  called  the  "Devil's  Cheese- 
ring,"  or  the  "Devil's  Cheese-knife,"  which  mean  the  same 
thing,  as  our  fathers  were  used  to  eat  their  cheese  from  a 
scoop;  and  perhaps  in  old  time  the  upmost  rock  (which  has 
fallen  away  since  I  knew  it)  was  like  to  such  an  implement,  if 
Satan  eat  cheese  untoasted. 

But  all  the  middle  of  this  valley  was  a  place  to  rest  in;  to 
sit  and  think  that  troubles  were  not,  if  we  would  not  make 


JOHN  IS  BEWITCHED.  117 

them.  To  know  the  sea,  outside  the  hills,  but  never  to  behold 
it ;  only  by  the  sound  of  waves,  to  pity  sailors  laboring.  Then 
to  watch  the  sheltered  sun,  coming  warmly  round  the  turn,  like 
a  guest  expected,  full  of  gentle  glow  and  gladness,  casting 
shadow  far  away  as  a  thing  to  luig  itself,  and  awakening  life 
from  dew,  and  hope  from  every  spreading  bud.  And  then  to 
fall  asleep,  and  dream  that  the  fern  was  all  asparagus. 

Alas,  I  was  too  young  in  those  days  much  to  care  for  creature 
comforts,  or  to  let  pure  palate  have  things  that  would  improve 
it.  Any  thing  went  down  with  me,  as  it  does  with  most  of  us. 
Too  late  we  know  the  good  from  bad:  the  knowledge  is  no 
pleasure  then;  being  memory's  medicine,  rather  than  the  wine 
of  hope. 

Now  Mother  Melldrum  kept  her  winter  in  this  vale  of  rocks, 
sheltering  from  the  wind  and  rain  within  the  Devil's  Cheese- 
ring;'  which  added  greatly  to  her  fame,  because  all  else,  for 
miles  around,  were  afraid  to  go  near  it  after  dark,  or  even  on 
a  gloomy  day.  Under  eaves  of  lichened  rock,  she  had  a  Avind- 
ing  passage,  which  none  that  ever  I  knew  of  durst  enter  but 
herself.  And  to  this  place  I  went  to  seek  her,  in  spite  of  all 
misgivings,  upon  a  Sunday  in  Lenten  season,  when  the  sheep 
were  folded. 

Our  parson  (as  if  he  had  known  my  intent)  had  preached  a 
beautiful  sermon  about  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  the  perils  of 
them  that  meddle  wantonly  with  the  unseen  Powers;  and 
therein  he  referred  especially  to  the  strange  noise  in  our  neigh- 
borhood, and  upbraided  us  for  want  of  faith,  and  many  other 
backslidings.  We  listened  to  him  very  earnestly,  for  we  like 
to  hear  from  our  betters  about  things  that  are  beyond  us,  and 
to  be  roused  up  now  and  then,  like  sheep  with  a  good  dog  after 
them,  who  can  pull  some  wool  without  biting.  Nevertheless 
we  could  not  see,  how  our  want  of  faith  could  have  made  that 
noise,  especially  at  night  time;  notwithstanding  which,  we 
believed  it,  and  hoped  to  do  a  little  better. 

And  so  we  all  came  home  from  church;  and  most  of  the  peo- 
ple dined  with  us,  as  they  always  do  on  Sundays,  because  of 
the  distance  to  go  home,  with  only  words  inside  them.  The 
parson,  who  always  sat  next  to  mother,  was  afraid  that  he  might 
have  vexed  us,  and  would  not  have  the  best  piece  of  meat, 
according  to  his  custom.  But  soon  we  put  him  at  his  ease,  and 
showed  him  we  were  proud  of  him ;  and  then  he  made  no  more 
to  do,  but  accepted  the  best  of  the  sirloin. 


118  LORNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

WITCHERY  LEADS  TO  WITCHCRAFT. 

Although  well  nigli  the  end  of  March,  the  wind  blew  wild 
and  piercing,  as  I  went  on  foot,  that  afternoon,  to  INIother  Mell- 
drum's  dwelling.  It  was  safer  not  to  take  a  horse,  lest  (if 
anything  vexed  her)  she  should  put  a  spell  upon  him ;  as  had 
been  done  to  Farmer  Snowe's  stable,  by  the  wise  woman  of 
Simonsbath. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  edge  of  the  hills,  by  the  time  I 
entered  the  valley,  for  I  could  not  leave  home  till  the  cattle 
were  tended,  and  the  distance  was  seven  miles  or  more.  The 
shadows  of  rocks  fell  far  and  deep,  and  the  brown  dead  fern 
was  fluttering,  and  brambles  with  their  sere  leaves  hanging, 
swayed  their  tatters  to  and  fro,  with  a  red  look  on  them.  In 
patches  underneath  the  crags,  a  few  wild  goats  were  browsing; 
then  they  tossed  their  horns,  and  fled,  and  leaped  on  ledges, 
and  stared  at  me.  Moreover,  the  sound  of  the  sea  came  up, 
and  went  the  length  of  the  valley,  and  there  it  lapped  on  a 
butt  of  rocks,  and  murmured  like  a  shell. 

Taking  things  one  with  another,  and  feeling  all  the  lone- 
someness,  and  having  no  stick  with  me,  I  was  much  inclined 
to  go  briskly  back,  and  come  at  a  better  season.  And  when  I 
beheld  a  tall  gray  shape,  of  something  or  another,  moving  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  valley,  where  the  shade  was,  it  gave  me 
such  a  stroke  of  fear,  after  many  others,  that  my  thumb  which 
lay  in  mother's  Bible  (brought  in  my  big  pocket,  for  the  sake 
of  safety)  shook  so  much  that  it  came  out,  and  I  could  not  get 
it  in  again.  "This  serves  me  right,"  I  said  to  myself,  "for 
tampering  with  Beelzebub.     Oh  that  I  had  listened  to  Parson !  " 

And  thereupon  I  struck  aside;  not  liking  to  runaway  quite, 
as  some  people  might  call  it;  but  seeking  to  look  like  a  wan- 
derer, who  was  come  to  see  the  valley,  and  had  seen  almost 
enough  of  it.  Herein  I  should  have  succeeded,  and  gone  home, 
and  then  been  angry  at  my  want  of  courage,  but  that  on  the 
very  turn  and  bending  of  my  footsteps,  the  woman  in  the  dis- 
tance lifted  up  her  staff  to  me ;  so  that  I  was  bound  to  stop. 

And  now,  being  brought  face  to  face,  by  the  will  of  God  (as 
one  might  say)  with  anything  that  might  come  of  it,  I  kept 
myself  quite  straight  and  stiff,  and  thrust  away  all  white 
feather,  trusting  in  my  Bible  still,  hoping  that  it  would  protect 


WITCHERY  LEAD8    TO    WITCHCRAFT.  119 

me,  tliougli  I  had  disobeyed  it.  But  upon  that  remembrance, 
my  conscience  took  me  by  the  leg,  so  that  I  couhl  not  go  for- 
ward. 

All  this  while,  the  fearful  woman  was  coming  near,  and 
more  near  to  me;  and  I  was  glad  to  sit  down  on  a  rock,  because 
my  knees  were  shaking  so.  I  tried  to  think  of  many  things, 
but  none  of  them  would  come  to  me ;  and  I  could  not  take  my 
eyes  away,  though  I  prayed  Heaven  to  be  near  me. 

But  when  she  was  come  so  nigh  to  me,  that  I  could  descry 
her  features,  there  was  something  in  her  countenance  that 
made  me  not  dislike  her.  She  looked  as  if  she  had  been  visited 
by  a  many  troubles,  and  had  felt  them  one  by  one ;  yet  held 
enough  of  kindly  nature  still  to  grieve  for  others.  Long  white 
hair,  on  either  side,  was  falling  down  below  her  chin;  and 
through  her  wrinkles,  clear  bright  eyes  seemed  to  spread  them- 
selves upon  me.  Though  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  think,  I  was 
taken  by  surprise  no  less,  and  unable  to  say  anything;  yet 
eager  to  hear  the  silence  broken,  and  longing  for  a  noise  or  two. 

"Thou  art  not  come  to  me,"  she  said,  looking  through  my 
simple  face,  as  if  it  were  Bristol  pebbles,  "  to  be  struck  for  bone- 
shave,  nor  to  be  blessed  for  barn-gun.  Give  me  forth  thy 
hand,  John  Ridd;  and  tell  why  thou  art  come  to  me." 

But  I  was  so  much  amazed,  at  her  knowing  my  name  and  all 
about  me,  that  I  feared  to  place  my  hand  in  her  power,  or  even 
my  tongue  by  speaking. 

"Have  no  fear  of  me,  my  son;  I  have  no  gift  to  harm  thee; 
and  if  I  had,  it  should  be  idle.  Now,  if  thou  hast  any  wit,  tell 
me  why  I  love  thee." 

"I  never  had  any  wit,  mother,"  I  answered,  in  our  Devon- 
shire way;  "and  never  set  eyes  on  thee  before,  to  the  furthest 
of  my  knowledge." 

"  And  yet  I  know  thee  as  well,  John,  as  if  thou  wert  my 
grandson.  Remember  you  the  old  Oare  oak,  and  the  bog  at 
the  head  of  Exe,  and  the  child  who  would  have  died  there, 
but  for  thy  strength  and  courage,  and  most  of  all  thy  kind- 
ness? That  was  my  granddaug-liter,  John;  and  all  I  have  on 
earth  to  love." 

i*^ow  that  she  came  to  speak  of  it,  with  the  place  and  that, 
so  clearly,  I  remembered  all  about  it  (a  thing  that  happened 
last  August),  and  thought  how  stupid  I  must  have  been,  not  to 
learn  more  of  the  little  maid,  who  had  fallen  into  the  black  pit, 
with  a  basketful  of  whortleberries,  and  who  miglit  have  been 
gulfed,  if  her  little  dog  had  not  spied  me  in  the  distance.  I 
carried  her  on  my  back  to  mother;  and  then  we  dressed  her  all 


120  LORN  A   DOONE. 

anew,  and  took  her  where  she  ordered  us ;  but  she  did  not  tell 
us  who  she  was,  nor  any  thing  more  than  her  Christian  name, 
and  that  she  was  eight  years  old,  and  fond  of  fried  batatas. 
And  we  did  not  seek  to  ask  her  more ;  as  our  manner  is  with 
visitors. 

But  thinking  of  this  little  story,  and  seeing  how  she  looked 
at  me,  I  lost  my  fear  of  Mother  Melldrum,  and  began  to  like 
her;  partly  because  I  had  helped  her  grandchild,  and  partly 
that  if  she  were  so  wise,  no  need  would  have  been  for  me  to 
save  the  little  maid  from  drowning.  Therefore  I  stood  up  and 
said,  though  scarcely  yet  established  in  my  power  against 
hers, — 

"  Good  mother,  the  shoe  she  lost  was  in  the  mire,  and  not 
with  us.  And  we  could  not  match  it,  although  we  gave  her  a 
pair  of  sister  Lizzie's." 

"My  son,  what  care  I  for  her  shoe?  How  simple  thou  art, 
and  foolish;  according  to  the  thoughts  of  some,  ^ow  tell 
me,  for  thou  canst  not  lie,  what  has  brought  thee  to  me." 

Being  so  ashamed  and  bashful,  I  was  half -inclined  to  tell  her 
a  lie,  until  she  said  that  I  could  not  do  it;  and  then  I  knew 
that  I  could  not. 

"I  am  come  to  know,"  I  said,  looking  at  a  rock  the  while, 
to  keep  my  voice  from  shaking,  "  when  I  may  go  to  see  Lorna 
Doone." 

No  more  could  I  say,  though  my  mind  was  charged  to  ask 
fifty  other  questions.  But  although  I  looked  away,  it  was 
plain  that  I  had  asked  enough.  I  felt  that  the  wise  woman 
gazed  at  me  in  wrath,  as  well  as  sorroAv ;  and  then  I  grew  angry 
that  any  one  should  seem  to  make  light  of  Lorna. 

"John  Ridd,"  said  the  woman,  observing  this  (for  now  I 
faced  her  bravely),  "of  whom  art  thou  speaking?  Is  it  a 
comely  daughter  of  the  men  who  slew  your  father?  " 

"I  cannot  tell,  mother.  How  should  I  know?  And  what 
is  that  to  thee?" 

"It  is  something  to  thy  mother,  John;  and  something  to 
thyself,  I  trow;  and  nothing  worse  could  befall  thee." 

I  waited  for  her  to  speak  again;  because  she  had  spoken  so 
sadly,  that  it  took  my  breath  away. 

"  John  Ridd,  if  thou  hast  any  value  for  thy  body  or  thy  soul, 
thy  mother,  or  thy  father's  name,  have  nought  to  do  with  any 
Doone." 

She  gazed  at  me  in  earnest  so,  and  raised  her  voice  in  say- 
ing it,  until  the  whole  valle}^,  curving  like  a  great  bell,  echoed 
"Doone,''  that  it  seemed  to  me  my  heart  was  gone,  for  every 


WITCHERY  LEADS    TO    WITCHCRAFT.  121 

one  and  every  thing.  If  it  were  God's  will  for  me  to  have  no 
more  of  Lorna,  let  a  sign  come  out  of  the  rocks,  and  I  would 
try  to  believe  it.  But  no  sign  came;  and  I  turned  on  the 
woman,  and  longed  that  she  had  been  a  man. 

"  You  poor  dame,  with  bones  and  blades,  pails  of  water,  and 
door-keys,  what  know  you  about  the  destiny  of  a  maiden  such 
as  Lorna?  Chill-blain  you  may  treat,  and  bone-shave,  ring- 
worm, and  the  scaldings;  even  scabby  sheep  may  limp  the 
better  for  your  strikings.  John  the  Baptist,  and  his  cousins, 
with  the  wool  and  hyssop,  are  for  mares,  and  ailing  dogs,  and 
fowls  that  have  the  jaundice.  Look  at  me  now,  Mother  Mell- 
drum,  am  I  like  a  fool?  " 

"  That  thou  art,  my  son.  Alas  that  it  were  any  other !  Now 
behold  the  end  of  that;  John  Ridd,  mark  the  end  of  it." 

She  pointed  to  the  castle-rock,  where  upon  a  narrow  shelf, 
betwixt  us  and  the  coming  stars,  a  bitter  fight  was  raging.  A 
tine  fat  sheep,  with  an  honest  face,  had  clomb  up  very  care- 
fully, to  browse  on  a  bit  of  juicy  grass,  now  the  dew  of  the 
land  was  upon  it.  To  him,  from  an  upper  crag,  a  lean  black 
goat  came  hurrying,  with  leaps,  and  skirmish  of  the  horns, 
and  an  angry  noise  in  his  nostrils.  The  goat  had  grazed  the 
place  before,  to  the  utmost  of  his  liking,  cropping  in  and  out 
with  jerks,  as  their  manner  is  of  feeding.  Xevertheless  he  fell 
on  the  sheep,  with  fury  and  great  malice. 

The  simple  wether  was  much  inclined  to  retire  from  the 
contest,  but  looked  around  in  vain  for  any  way  to  peace  and 
comfort.  His  enemy  stood  between  him  and  the  last  leap  he 
had  taken;  there  was  nothing  left  him  but  to  fight,  or  be 
hurled  into  the  sea,  five  hundred  feet  below. 

"  Lie  down,  lie  down!  "  I  shouted  to  him,  as  if  he  were  a  dog; 
for  I  had  seen  a  battle  like  this  before,  and  knew  that  the  sheep 
had  no  chance  of  life,  except  from  his  greater  weight,  and  the 
difficulty  of  moving  him. 

"Lie  down,  lie  down,  John  Ridd!"  cried  Mother  Melldrum, 
nii-eking  me,  but  without  a  sign  of  smiling. 

The  poor  sheep  turned,  upon  my  voice,  and  looked  at  me  so 
piteously  that  I  could  look  no  longer;  but  ran  with  all  my 
speed,  to  try  and  save  him  from  the  combat.  He  saw  that  I 
could  not  be  in  time,  for  the  goat  was  bucking  to  leap  at  him, 
and  so  the  good  wether  stooped  his  forehead,  Avith  the  harm- 
less horns  curling  aside  of  it;  and  the  goat  flung  his  heels  up, 
and  rushed  at  him,  with  quick  sharp  jumps  and  tricks  of  move- 
ment, and  the  points  of  his  long  horns  always  foremost,  and 
his  little  scut  cocked  like  a  min-hammer. 


122  LOBNA    DOOXE. 

As  I  ran  up  the  steep  of  tlie  rock,  I  could  not  see  what  they 
were  doing ;  but  the  sheep  must  have  fought  very  bravely  at 
last,  and  yielded  his  ground  quite  slowly,  and  I  hoped  almost 
to  save  him.  But  just  as  my  head  topped  the  platform  of  rock, 
I  saw  him  flung  from  it  backward,  with  a  sad  low  moan  and  a 
gurgle.  His  body  made  a  vanishing  noise  in  the  air,  like  a 
bucket  thrown  down  a  well-shaft,  and  I  could  not  tell  when  it 
struck  tlie  water,  except  by  the  echo  among  the  rocks.  So  wroth 
was  I  with  the  goat  at  the  moment  (being  somewhat  scant  of 
breath,  and  unable  to  consider),  that  I  caught  him  by  the  right 
hind-leg,  before  he  could  turn  from  his  victory,  and  hurled  him 
after  the  sheep,  to  learn  how  he  liked  his  own  compulsion. 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

ANOTHER    DANGEROUS    INTERVIEW. 

Although  I  left  the  Denes  at  once,  having  little  heart  for 
further  questions  of  the  wise  woman,  and  being  afraid  to  visit 
her  house  under  the  "Devil's  Cheese-ring"  (to  which  she 
kindly  invited  me),  and  although  I  ran  most  part  of  the  way, 
it  was  very  late  for  farmhouse  time  upon  a  Sunday  evening, 
before  I  was  back  at  Plover's  EarroAvs.  My  mother  had  great 
desire  to  know  all  about  the  matter;  but  I  could  not  reconcile 
it  with  my  respect  so  to  frighten  her.  Therefore  I  tried  to 
sleep  it  off,  keeping  my  own  counsel ;  and  when  that  proved  of 
no  avail,  I  strove  to  work  it  away,  if  might  be,  by  heavy  out- 
door labor,  and  weariness  and  good  feeding.  These  indeed 
had  some  effect,  and  helped  to  pass  a  week  or  two,  with  more 
pain  of  hand  than  heart  to  me. 

But  when  the  weather  changed  in  earnest,  and  the  frost  was 
gone,  and  the  south-west  wind  blew  softly,  and  the  lambs  were 
at  play  with  the  daisies,  it  was  more  than  I  could  do  to  keep 
from  thought  of  Lorna.  For  now  the  fields  were  spread  with 
growth,  and  the  waters  clad  with  sunshine;  and  light  and 
shadow,  step  by  step,  wandered  over  the  furzy  cleves.  All 
the  sides  of  the  hilly  wood  were  gathered  in  and  out  with 
green,  silver-gray,  or  russet  points,  according  to  the  several 
manner  of  the  trees  beginning.  And  if  one  stood  beneath  an 
elm,  with  any  heart  to  look  at  it,  lo !  all  the  ground  was  strewn 
with  flakes  (too  small  to  know  their  meaning),  and  all  the 
sprays  above  were  rasped  and  trembling  with  a  redness.     And 


AHOrilEIl   DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  123 

so  I  stopped  beneath  the  tree,  and  carved  L.  D.  upon  it,  and 
wondered  at  the  buds  of  thought  that  seemed  to  swell  inside 
me. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was  this,  that  as  no  Lorna  came  to  me, 
except  in  dreams  or  fancy,  and  as  my  life  was  not  worth  living 
without  constant  sign  of  her,  forth  I  must  again  to  find  her, 
and  say  more  than  a  man  can  tell.  Therefore,  without  wait- 
ing longer  for  the  moving  of  the  spring,  dressed  I  was  in  grand 
attire  (so  far  as  I  had  gotten  it),  and  thinking  my  appearance 
good,  although  with  doubts  about  it  (being  forced  to  dress  in 
the  hay-tallat),  round  the  corner  of  the  Avood-stack,  went  I 
very  knowingly  —  for  Lizzie's  eyes  were  wondrous  sharp  —  and 
thus  I  was  sure  of  meeting  none,  who  would  care  or  dare  to 
speak  of  me. 

It  lay  upon  my  conscience  often,  that  I  had  not  made  dear 
Annie  secret  to  this  history ;  although  in  all  things  I  could 
trust  her,  and  she  loved  me  like  a  lamb.  Many  and  many  a 
time  T  tried,  and  more  than  once  began  the  thing;  but  there 
came  a  dryness  in  my  throat,  and  a  knocking  under  the  roof  of 
my  mouth,  and  a  longing  to  put  it  off  again,  as  perhaps  might 
be  the  wisest.  And  then  I  would  remember  too,  that  I  had  no 
right  to  speak  of  Lorna,  as  if  she  were  common  property. 

This  time  I  longed  to  take  my  gun,  and  was  half  resolved  to 
do  so;  because  it  seemed  so  hard  a  thing  to  be  shot  at,  and 
have  no  chance  of  shooting;  but  when  I  came  to  remember  the 
steepness,  and  the  slippery  nature  of  the  water-slide,  there 
seemed  but  little  likelihood  of  keeping  dry  the  powder.  There- 
fore I  was  armed  with  nothing,  but  a  good  stout  holly  staff, 
seasoned  Avell  for  many  a  winter,  in  our  back-kitchen  chimney. 

Although  my  heart  was  leaping  high,  with  the  prospect  of 
some  adventure,  and  the  fear  of  meeting  Lorna,  1  could  not 
but  be  gladdened  by  the  softness  of  the  weather,  and  the  wel- 
come way  of  every  thing.  There  was  that  power  all  around, 
that  power  and  that  goodness,  which  make  us  come,  as  it  were, 
outside  our  bodily  selves,  to  share  them.  Over,  and  beside  us, 
breathes  the  joy  of  hope  and  promise ;  under  foot  are  troubles 
past;  in  the  distance,  bowering  newness  tempts  us  ever  for- 
ward. We  rise  into  quick  sense  of  life,  and  si3ring  through 
clouds  of  mystery. 

And,  in  good  sooth,  I  had  to  spring,  and  no  mystery  about 
it,  ere  ever  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  rift  leading  into  Doone- 
glade.  For  the  stream  was  rushing  down  in  strength,  and 
raving  at  every  corner ;  a  mort  of  rain  having  fallen  last  night, 
and  no  wind  come  to  wipe  it.     However,  1  reached  the  head 


124  LOBNA   DOONE. 

ere  dark,  with  more  difficulty  than  danger;  and  sat  in  a  place, 
which  comforted  my  back  and  legs  desirably. 

Hereupon  I  grew  so  happy,  at  being  on  dry  land  again,  and 
come  to  look  for  Lorna,  with  pretty  trees  around  me,  that  what 
did  I  do  but  fall  asleep  with  the  holly-stick  in  front  of  me, 
and  my  best  coat  sunk  in  a  bed  of  moss,  among  Avetness  and 
Avood-sorrel.  Mayhap  I  had  not  done  so,  nor  yet  enjoyed  the 
spring  so  much,  if  so  be  I  had  not  taken  three-parts  of  a  gallon 
of  cider,  at  home  at  Plover's  Barrows,  because  of  the  lowness, 
and  the  sinking,  ever  since  I  met  Mother  Melldrum. 

There  was  a  little  runnel,  going  softly  down  beside  me,  fall- 
ing from  the  upper  rock,  by  the  means  of  moss  and  grass,  as 
if  it  feared  to  make  a  noise,  and  had  a  mother  sleeping.  Now 
and  then  it  seemed  to  stop,  in  fear  of  its  own  dropping,  and 
waiting  for  some  orders ;  and  the  blades  of  grass  that  straight- 
ened to  it  turned  their  points  a  little  way,  and  offered  their 
allegiance  to  wind  instead  of  water.  Yet,  before  their  carkled 
edges  bent  more  than  a  driven  saw,  down  the  water  came 
again,  with  heavy  drops,  and  pats  oY  running,  and  bright 
anger  at  neglect. 

This  was  very  pleasant  to  me,  now  and  then,  to  gaze  at; 
blinking  as  the  water  blinked,  and  falling  back  to  sleep  again. 
Suddenly  my  sleep  was  broken  by  a  shad^  cast  over  me;  be- 
tween me  and  the  low  sunlight,  Lorna  Doone  was  standing. 

"  Master  Eidd,  are  you  mad  ?  "  she  said,  and  took  my  hand 
to  move  me. 

"Not  mad,  but  half  asleep,"  I  answered,  feigning  not  to 
notice  her,  that  so  she  might  keep  hold  of  me. 

"  Come  away,  come  away,  if  you  care  for  life.  The  patrol 
will  be  here  directly.  Be  quick,  Master  Ridd,  let  me  hide 
thee." 

"I  will  not  stir  a  step,"  said  I,  though  being  in  the  greatest 
fright  that  might  well  be  imagined;  "unless  you  call  me 
'John.'" 

"Well,  John,  then  —  Master  John  Ridd;  be  quick,  if  you 
have  any  to  care  for  you." 

"I  have  many  that  care  for  me,"  I  said,  just  to  let  her 
know;  "and  I  will  follow  you.  Mistress  Lorna;  albeit  with- 
out any  hurry,  unless  there  be  peril  to  more  than  me." 

Without  another  word,  she  led  me,  though  with  many  timid 
glances  towards  the  upper  valley,  to,  and  into,  her  little  bower, 
where  the  inlet  through  the  rock  was.  I  am  almost  sure  that 
I  spoke  before  (though  I  cannot  now  go  seek  for  it,  and  my 
memory  is  but  a  wojii-out  tub)  of  a  certain  deep  and  perilous 


ANOTHER   DAyGEROUS  lyTERVlEW.  125 

pit,  iu  which  I  was  like  to  drown  myself,  through  hurry  and 
fright  of  boyhood.  And  even  then  I  wondered  greatly,  and 
was  vexed  with  Lorna,  for  sending  me  in  that  heedless  manner 
into  such  an  entrance.  But  now  it  was  clear,  that  she  had 
been  right,  and  the  fault  mine  own  entirely ;  for  the  entrance 
to  the  pit  was  only  to  be  found  by  seeking  it.  Inside  the 
niche  of  native  stone,  the  plainest  thing  of  all  to  see,  at  any 
rate  by  daylight,  was  the  stairway  hewn  from  rock,  and  lead- 
ing up  the  mountain,  by  means  of  which  I  had  escaped,  as 
before  related.  To  the  right  side  of  this  was  the  mouth  of  the 
pit,  still  looking  very  formidable;  though  Lorna  laughed  at 
my  fear  of  it,  for  she  drew  her  water  tlienoe.  But  on  the  left 
was  a  narrow  crevice,  very  difficult  to  espy,  and  having  a 
sweep  of  gray  ivy  laid,  like  a  slouching  beaver,  over  it.  A 
man  here  coming  from  the  brightness  of  the  outer  air,  with 
eyes  dazed  by  the  twilight,  would  never  think  of  seeing  this, 
and  following  it  to  its  meaning. 

Lorna  raised  the  screen  for  me,  but  I  had  much  ado  to  pass, 
on  account  of  bulk  and  stature.  Instead  of  being  proud  of  my 
size  (as  it  seemed  to  me  she  ought  to  be)  Lorna  laughed  so 
quietly,  that  I  was  ready  to  knock  my  head  or  elbows  against 
any  thing,  and  say  no  more  about  it.  However,  I  got  through 
at  last,  without  a  word  of '  compliment,  and  broke  into  the 
pleasant  room,  the  lone  retreat  of  Lorna. 

The  chamber  was  of  unhewn  rock,  round,  as  near  as  might 
be,  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  across,  and  gay  with  rich  variety 
of  fern,  and  moss,  and  lichen.  The  fern  was  in  its  winter 
still,  oi'  coiling  for  the  spring-tide ;  but  moss  was  in  abundant 
life,  some  feathering,  and  some  gobleted,  and  some  with  fringe 
of  red  to  it.  Overhead  there  was  no  ceiling  but  the  sky  itself, 
flaked  with  little  clouds  of  April  whitely  wandering  over  it. 
The  floor  was  made  of  soft,  low  grass,  mixed  with  moss  and 
primroses ;  and  in  a  niche  of  shelter  moved  the  delicate  wood- 
sorrel.  Here  and  there,  around  the  sides,  were  "chairs  of 
living  stone, "  as  some  Latin  writer  says,  whose  name  has  quite 
escaped  me ;  and  in  the  midst  a  tiny  spring  arose,  with  crys- 
tal beads  in  it,  and  a  soft  voice  as  of  a  laughing  dream,  and 
dimples  like  a  sleeping  babe.  Then,  after  going  round  a 
little,  with  surprise  of  daylight,  the  water  overwelled  the  edge, 
and  softly  went  through  lines  of  light,  to  shadows  and  an 
untold  bourne. 

While  I  was  gazing  at  all  these  things,  with  wonder  and 
some  sadness,  Lorna  turned  upon  me  lightly  (as  her  manner 
was)  and  said. — 


126  LORyA   DOONE. 

"  Where  are  the  new-laid  eggs,  Master  Eidd  ?  Or  hath  blue 
hen  ceased  laying  ?  " 

I  did  not  altogether  like  the  way  in  which  she  said  it,  with 
a  sort  of  a  dialect,  as  if  my  speech  conld  be  laughed  at. 

"Here  be  some,"  I  answered,  speaking  as  if  in  spite  of  her. 
"  I  would  have  brought  thee  twice  as  many,  but  that  I  feared 
to  crush  them  in  the  narrow  ways.  Mistress  Lorna." 

And  so  I  laid  her  out  two  dozen  upon  the  moss  of  the  rock 
ledge,  unwinding  the  wisp  of  hay  from  each,  as  it  came  safe 
out  of  my  pocket.  Lorna  looked  with  growing  wonder,  as  I 
added  one  to  one ;  and  when  I  had  placed  them  side  by  side, 
and  bidden  her  now  to  tell  them,  to  my  amazement  what  did 
she  do  but  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears ! 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  "  I  asked,  with  shame,  scarce  daring 
even  to  look  at  her,  because  her  grief  was  not  like  Annie's  — 
a  thing  that  could  be  coaxed  away,  and  left  a  joy  in  going  — 
"  oh,  what  have  I  done  to  vex  you  so  ?  " 

"It  is  nothing  done  by  you.  Master  Ridd,"  she  answered, 
very  proudly,  as  if  nought  I  did  could  matter ;  "  it  is  only 
something  that  comes  upon  me,  with  the  scent  of  the  pure 
true  clover-hay.  Moreover,  you  have  been  too  kind;  and  I 
am  not  used  to  kindness." 

Some  sort  of  awkwardness  was  on  me,  at  her  words  and 
weeping,  as  if  I  would  like  to  say  something,  but  feared  to 
make  tilings  worse  perhaps  than  they  were  already.  There- 
fore I  abstained  from  speech,  as  I  would  in  my  own  pain. 
And  as  it  happened,  this  was  the  way  to  make  her  tell  me 
more  about  it.  Not  that  I  was  curious,  beyond  what  pity 
urged  me,  and  the  strange  affairs  around  her ;  and  now  I  gazed 
upon  the  floor,  lest  I  should  seem  to  watch  her;  but  none  the 
less  for  that  I  knew  all  that  she  was  doing. 

Lorna  went  a  little  way,  as  if  she  would  not  think  of  me, 
nor  care  for  one  so  careless;  and  all  my  heart  gave  a  sudden 
jump,  to  go  like  a  mad  thing  after  her;  until  she  turned  of 
her  own  accord,  and  with  a  little  sigh  came  back  to  me.  Her 
eyes  were  soft  with  trouble's  shadow,  and  the  proud  lift  of 
her  neck  was  gone,  and  beauty's  vanity  borne  down  by  woman's 
want  of  sustenance. 

"  Master  Eidd,"  she  said  in  the  softest  voice  that  ever  flowed 
between  two  lips,  "  have  I  done  aught  to  offend  you  ?  " 

Hereupon  it  went  hard  with  me,  not  to  catch  her  up  and 
kiss  her,  in  the  manner  in  which  she  was  looking;  only  it 
smote  me  suddenly,  that  this  would  be  a  low  advantage  of  her 
trust  and  helplessness.     She  seemed  to  know  what  I  would  be 


ANOTHER  DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  127 

at,  and  to  doubt  very  greatly  about  it,  Avhether  as  a  child  of 
old  she  might  permit  the  usage.  All  sorts  of  things  went 
through  my  head,  as  I  made  myself  look  away  from  her,  for 
fear  of  being  tempted  beyond  what  I  could  bear.  And  the 
upshot  of  it  was,  that  I  said,  within  my  heart  and  through  it, 
"John  Kidd,  be  on  thy  very  best  manners  with  this  lonely 
maiden. " 

Lorna  liked  me  all  the  better  for  my  good  forbearance;  be- 
cause she  did  not  love  me  yet,  and  had  not  thought  about  it; 
at  least  so  far  as  I  knew.  And  though  her  eyes  were  so  beau- 
teous, so  very  soft  and  kindly,  there  was  (to  my  apprehen- 
sion) some  great  power  in  them,  as  if  she  would  not  have  a 
thing,  unless  her  judgment  leaped  Avith  it. 

But  now  her  judgment  leaped  with  me,  because  I  had  be- 
haved so  well;  and  being  of  quick  urgent  nature  —  such  as 
1  delight  in,  for  the  change  from  mine  own  slowness  —  she, 
without  any  let  or  hindrance,  sitting  over  against  me,  now 
raising  and  now  dropping  fringe,  over  those  sweet  eyes  that 
were  the  road-lights  of  her  tongue,  Lorna  told  me  all  about 
every  thing  I  wished  to  know,  every  little  thing  she  knew, 
except  indeed  that  point  of  points,  how  Master  Ridd  stood 
with  her. 

Although  it  wearied  me  no  whit,  it  might  be  wearisome  for 
folk  who  cannot  look  at  Lorna,  to  hear  the  story  all  in  speech, 
exactly  as  she  told  it;  therefore  let  me  put  it  shortly,  to  the 
best  of  my  remembrance. 

Nay,  pardon  me,  whosoever  thou  art,  for  seeming  fickle  and 
rude  to  thee ;  I  have  tried  to  do  as  first  proposed,  to  tell  the 
tale  in  my  own  words,  as  of  another's  fortune.  But,  lo!  I 
was  beset  at  once  with  many  heavy  obstacles,  which  grew  as  I 
went  onward,  until  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  and  mingled  past 
and  present.  And  two  of  these  difficulties  only  were  enough 
to  stop  me ;  the  one  that  I  must  coldly  speak,  without  the  force 
of  pity,  the  other  that  I,  off  and  on,  confused  myself  with 
Lorna,  as  might  be  well  expected. 

Therefore  let  her  tell  the  story,  with  her  own  sweet  voice 
and  manner ;  and  if  ye  find  it  wearisome,  seek  in  yourselves 
the  weariness. 


128  LORN  A  noONE. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

LORNA  BEGINS  HER  STORY. 

"  I  CANNOT  go  through  all  my  thoughts,  so  as  to  make  them 
clear  to  you,  nor  have  I  ever  dwelt  on  things,  to  shape  a  story 
of  them.  I  know  not  where  the  beginning  was,  nor  where  the 
middle  ought  to  be,  nor  even  how  at  the  j)resent  time  I  feel, 
or  think,  or  ought  to  think.  If  I  look  for  help  to  those  around 
me,  who  should  tell  me  right  and  wrong  (being  older  and  much 
wiser),  I  meet  sometimes  with  laughter,  and  at  other  times 
with  anger. 

"  There  are  but  tAvo  in  the  world,  who  ever  listen  and  try  to 
help  me;  one  of  them  is  my  grandfather,  and  the  other  is  a 
man  of  wisdom,  whom  we  call  the  Counsellor.  My  grand- 
father. Sir  Ensor  Doone,  is  very  old  and  harsh  of  manner 
(except  indeed  to  me) ;  he  seems  to  know  what  is  right  and 
wrong,  but  not  to  want  to  think  of  it.  The  Counsellor,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  full  of  life  and  subtleties,  treats  my 
questions  as  of  play,  and  not  gravely  worth  his  while  to 
answer,  unless  he  can  make  wit  of  them. 

"  And  among  the  women,  there  are  none  with  whom  I  can 
hold  converse,  since  my  Aunt  Sabina  died,  who  took  such 
pains  to  teach  me.  She  was  a  lady  of  high  repute,  and  lofty 
ways,  and  learning,  but  grieved  and  harassed  more  and  more, 
by  the  coarseness,  and  the  violence,  and  the  ignorance,  around 
her.  In  vain  she  strove,  from  year  to  year,  to  make  the 
young  men  hearken,  to  teach  them  Avhat  became  their  birth, 
and  give  them  sense  of  honor.  It  was  her  favorite  word,  poor 
thing!  and  they  called  her  'Old  Aunt  Honor.'  Very  often  she 
used  to  say,  that  I  was  her  only  comfort,  and  I  am  sure  she 
was  my  only  one ;  and  when  she  died,  it  was  more  to  me  than 
if  I  had  lost  a  mother. 

"For  I  have  no  remembrance  now  of  father,  or  of  mother; 
although  they  say  that  my  father  was  the  eldest  son  of  Sir 
Ensor  Doone,  and  the  bravest,  and  the  best  of  them.  And 
so  they  call  me  heiress  to  this  little  realm  of  violence;  and  in 
sorry  sport  sometimes,  I  am  their  Princess,  or  their  Queen. 

"Many  people  living  here,  as  I  am  forced  to  do,  would  per- 
haps be  very  happy,  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  be  so.  We  have 
a  beauteous  valley,  sheltered  from  the  cold  of  winter,  and 
power  of  the  summer  sun,  untroubled  also  by  the  storms  and 


LORNA  BEGINS  HER   STORY.  129 

mists  that  veil  the  mountains ;  although  I  must  acknowledge 
that  it  is  apt  to  rain  too  often.  The  grass  moreover  is  so 
fresh,  and  the  brook  so  bright  and  lively,  and  flowers  of  so 
many  hues  come  after  one  another,  that  no  one  need  be  dull, 
if  only  left  alone  with  them. 

"  And  so,  in  the  early  day  perhaps,  when  morning  breathes 
around  me,  and  the  sun  is  going  upward,  and  light  is  playing 
everywhere,  I  am  not  so  far  beside  them  all,  as  to  live  in 
shadow.  But  when  the  evening  gathers  down,  and  the  sky  is 
spread  with  sadness,  and  the  day  has  spent  itself;  then  a 
cloud  of  lonely  trouble  falls, 'like  night,  upon  me.  I  cannot 
see  the  things  I  quest  for  of  a  world  beyond  me;  I  cannot  join 
the  peace,  and  quiet,  of  the  depth  above  me ;  neither  have  I  any 
pleasure  in  the  brightness  of  the  stars. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is  something  none  of  them  can  tell 
me  —  what  am  I,  and  why  set  here,  and  when  shall  I  be  with 
them  ?  I  see  that  you  are  surprised  a  little,  at  this  my  curi- 
osity. Perhaps  such  questions  never  spring,  in  any  whole- 
some spirit.  But  they  are  in  the  depths  of  mine,  and  I 
cannot  be  quit  of  them. 

"  Meantime,  all  around  me  is  violence  and  robbery,  coarse 
delight  and  savage  pain,  reckless  joke  and  hopeless  death.  Is 
it  any  wonder,  that  I  cannot  sink  with  these,  that  I  cannot  so 
forget  my  soul,  as  to  live  the  life  of  brutes,  and  die  the  death 
more  horrible,  ])ecause  it  dreams  of  waking  ?  There  is  none 
to  lead  me  forward,  there  is  none  to  teach  me  right;  young  as 
I  am,  I  live  beneath  a  curse  that  lasts  for  ever." 

Here  Lorna  broke  down  for  awhile,  and  cried  so  very  pite- 
ously,  that  doubting  of  my  knowledge,  and  my  right  or  power 
to  comfort,  I  did  my  best  to  hold  my  peace,  and  tried  to  look 
very  cheerful.  Then  thinking  that  might  be  bad  manners,  I 
went  to  wipe  her  ^yes  for  her. 

"Master  Kidd,"  she  began  again,  "I  am  both  ashamed  and 
vexed,  at  my  own  childish  folly.  But  you,  who  have  a  mother, 
who  thinks  (you  say)  so  much  of  you,  and  sisters,  and  a  quiet 
home;  you  cannot  tell  (it  is  not  likely)  what  a  lonely  nature 
is.  How  it  leaps  in  mirth  sometimes,  with  only  heaven  touch- 
ing it;  and  hoAv  it  falls  away  desponding,  when  the  dreary 
weight  creeps  on. 

"It  does  not  happen  many  times,  that  I  give  way  like  this; 
more  shame  now  to  do  so,  when  I  ought  to  entertain  you. 
Sometimes  I  am  so  full  of  anger,  that  I  dare  not  trust  to 
speech,  at  things  they  cannot  hide  from  me ;  and  perhaps  you 
wnuhl   be   much   surprised,  that  reckless  men  would  care  so 

VOL.  I.  —  9 


130  LORN  A   DOONE. 

mucli  to  elude  a  young  maiden's  knowledge.  They  used  to 
boast  to  Aunt  Sabina  of  pillage,  and  of  cruelty,  on  purpose  to 
enrage  her;  but  they  never  boast  to  me.  It  even  makes  me 
smile  sometimes,  to  see  how  awkwardly  they  come,  and  offer 
for  temptation  to  me  shining  packets,  half  concealed,  of  orna- 
ments, and  finery,  of  rings,  or  chains,  or  jewels,  lately  belong- 
ing to  other  people. 

"  But  when  I  try  to  search  the  past,  to  get  a  sense  of  what 
befell  me,  ere  my  own  perception  formed;  to  feel  back  for  the 
lines  of  childhood,  as  a  trace  of  gossamer,  then  I  only  know 
that  nought  lives  longer  than  God  wills  it.  So  may  later  sin 
go  by,  for  we  are  children  always,  as  the  Counsellor  has  told 
me :  so  may  we,  beyond  the  clouds,  seek  this  infancy  of  life, 
and  never  find  its  memory. 

"  But  I  am  talking  now  of  things,  which  never  come  across 
me  when  any  work  is  toward.  It  might  have  been  a  good 
thing  for  me,  to  have  had  a  father  to  beat  these  rovings  out  of 
me ;  or  a  mother  to  make  a  home,  and  teach  me  how  to  man- 
age it.  For,  being  left  with  none,  —  I  think ;  and  nothing 
ever  comes  of  it.  Nothing,  I  mean,  which  I  can  grasp,  and 
have  with  any  surety;  nothing  but  faint  images,  and  won- 
derment, and  wandering.  But  often,  when  I  am  neither 
searching  back  into  remembrance,  nor  asking  of  my  parents, 
but  occupied  by  trifles,  something  like  a  sign,  or  message,  or  a 
token  of  some  meaning,  seems  to  glance  upon  me.  Whether 
from  the  rustling  wind,  or  sound  of  distant  music,  or  the  sing- 
ing of  a  bird,  like  the  sun  on  snow,  it  strikes  me  with  a  pain 
of  pleasure. 

"  And  often  when  I  wake  at  night,  and  listen  to  the  silence, 
or  wander  far  from  people,  in  the  grayness  of  the  evening,  or 
stand  and  look  at  quiet  water  having  shadows  over  it,  some 
vague  image  seems  to  hover  on  the  skirt  of  vision,  ever  chang- 
ing place  and  outline,  ever  flitting  as  I  follow.  This  so  moves 
and  hurries  me,  in  the  eagerness  and  longing,  that  straight- 
way all  my  chance  is  lost;  and  memory,  scared  like  a  wild 
bird,  flies.  Or  am  I  as  a  child  perhaps,  chasing  a  flown 
cageling,  who  among  the  branches  free,  plays  and  peeps  at  the 
offered  cage  (as  a  home  not  to  be  urged  on  him),  and  means  to 
take  his  time  of  coming,  if  he  comes  at  all? 

"Often  too  I  wonder  at  the  odds  of  fortune,  which  made 
me  (helpless  as  I  am,  and  fond  of  peace,  and  reading)  the 
heiress  of  this  mad  domain,  this  sanctuary  of  unholiness.  It 
is  not  likely  that  I  shall  have  much  power  of  authority;  and 
yet  the  Counsellor  creeps  up,  to  be  my  Lord  of  the  Treasury; 


LORN  A   BEGINS  HER    STORY.  131 


and  his  son  aspires  to  my  hand,  as  of  a  Eoyal  alliance.  Well, 
'honor  among  thieves,'  they  say,  and  mine  is  the  first  honor: 
although  among  decent  folk  perhaps  honesty  is  better. 

"  We  should  not  be  so  quiet  here,  and  safe  from  interrup- 
tion, but  that  I  have  begged  one  privilege,  rather  than  com- 
manded it.  This  was,  that  the  lower  end,  just  this  narrowing 
of  the  valley,  where  it  is  most  hard  to  come  at,  might  be 
looked  upon  as  mine,  except  for  purposes  of  guard.  There- 
fore none,  beside  the  sentries,  ever  trespass  on  me  here,  unless 
it  be  my  grandfather,  or  the  Counsellor,  or  Carver. 

"  By  your  face,  Master  E,idd,  I  see  that  you  have  heard  of 
Carver  Doone.  For  strength,  and  courage,  and  resource,  he 
bears  the  first  repute  among  us,  as  might  well  be  expected 
from  the  son  of  the  Counsellor.  But  he  differs  from  his  father, 
in  being  very  hot  and  savago,  and  quite  free  from  argument. 
The  Counsellor,  who  is  my  uncle,  gives  his  son  the  best  advice; 
commending  all  the  virtues,  with  eloquence  and  wisdom;  yet 
himself  abstaining  from  them,  accurately  and  impartially. 

"  You  must  be  tired  of  this  story,  and  the  time  I  take  to 
think,  and  the  weakness  of  my  telling;  but  my  life  from  day 
to  day  shows  so  little  variance.  Among  the  riders  there  is 
none  whose  safe  return  I  watch  for  —  I  mean  none  more  than 
other  —  and  indeed  there  seems  no  risk ;  all  are  now  so  feared 
of  us.  Neither  of  the  old  men  is  there,  whom  I  can  revere 
or  love  (except  alone  my  grandfather,  whom  I  love  with  trem- 
bling) ;  neither  of  the  women  any  whom  I  like  to  deal  with, 
unless  it  be  a  little  maiden,  whom  I  saved  from  starving. 

"A  little  Cornish  girl  she  is,  and  shaped  in  western  manner; 
not  so  very  much  less  in  width,  than  if  you  take  her  length- 
wise. Her  father  seems  to  have  been  a  miner,  a  Cornishman 
(as  she  declares)  of  more  than  average  excellence,  and  better 
than  any  two  men  to  be  found  in  Devonshire,  or  any  four  in 
Somerset.  Very  few  things  can  have  been  beyond  his  power 
of  performance;  and  yet  he  left  his  daughter  to  starve  upon  a 
peat-rick.  She  does  not  know  how  this  was  done,  and  looks 
upon  it  as  a  mystery,  the  meaning  of  which  will  some  day  be 
clear,  and  redound  to  her  father's  honor.  His  name  was 
Simon  Carfax,  and  he  came  as  the  captain  of  a  gang,  from  one 
of  the  Cornish  stannaries.  Gwenny  Carfax,  my  young  maid, 
well  remembers  how  her  father  was  brought  up  from  Corn- 
wall. Her  mother  had  been  buried,  just  a  week  or  so,  before ; 
and  he  was  sad  about  it,  and  had  been  off  his  work,  and  was 
ready  for  another  job.  Then  people  came  to  him  by  night, 
and  said  that  he  must  want  a  change,   and  every  body  lost 


132  LOBNA  DOONE. 

their  wives,  and  work  was  the  way  to  mend  it.  So  what  with 
grief,  and  over-thought,  and  the  inside  of  a  square  bottle, 
Gwenny  says  they  brought  him  off,  to  become  a  mighty  cap- 
tain, and  choose  the  country  round.  The  last  she  saw  of  him 
was  this,  that  he  went  down  a  ladder  somewhere  on  the  wilds 
of  Exmoor,  leaving  her  with  bread  and  cheese,  and  his  travel- 
ling-hat to  see  to.  And  from  that  day  to  this,  he  never  came 
above  the  ground  again ;  so  far  as  we  can  hear  of. 

"But  Gwenny,  holding  to  his  hat,  and  having  eaten  the 
bread  and  cheese  (when  he  came  no  more  to  help  her),  dwelt 
three  days  near  the  mouth  of  the  hole ;  and  then  it  was  closed 
over,  the  while  that  she  was  sleeping.  With  weakness,  and 
with  want  of  food,  she  lost  herself  distressfully,  and  went 
away,  for  miles  or  more,  and  lay  upon  a  peat-rick,  to  die 
before  the  ravens. 

"That  very  day,  I  chanced  to  return  from  Aunt  Sabina's 
dying  place ;  for  she  would  not  die  in  Glen  Doone,  she  said, 
lest  the  angels  feared  to  come  for  her ;  and  so  she  was  taken 
to  a  cottage  in  a  lonely  valley.  I  was  allowed  to  visit  her,  for 
even  we  durst  not  refuse  the  wishes  of  the  dying;  and  if  a 
priest  had  been  desired,  we  should  have  made  bold  with  him. 
Returning  very  sorrowful,  and  caring  now  for  nothing,  I  found 
this  little  stray  thing  lying,  with  her  arms  upon  her,  and  not 
a  sign  of  life,  except  the  way  that  she  Avas  biting.  Black  root- 
stuff  was  in  her  mouth,  and  a  piece  of  dirty  sheep's  wool,  and 
at  her  feet  an  old  egg-shell  of  some  bird  of  the  moorland. 

"  I  tried  to  raise  her,  but  she  was  too  square  and  heavy  for 
me;  and  so  I  put  food  in  her  mouth,  and  left  her  to  do  right 
with  it.  And  this  she  did  in  a  little  time;  for  the  victuals 
were  very  choice  and  rare,  being  what  I  had  taken  OA^er,  to 
tempt  poor  Aunt  Sabina.  Gwenny  ate  them  without  delay, 
and  then  was  ready  to  eat  the  basket,  and  the  ware  that  had 
contained  them. 

"  Gwenny  took  me  for  an  angel  —  though  I  am  little  like 
one,  as  you  see,  Master  Eidd;  and  she  followed  me,  expecting 
that  I  would  open  wings  and  fly,  when  we  came  to  any  difii- 
cult3\  I  brought  her  home  with  me,  so  far  as  this  can  be  a 
home;  and  she  made  herself  my  sole  attendant,  without  so 
much  as  asking  me.  She  has  beaten  two  or  three  other  girls, 
who  used  to  wait  upon  me,  until  they  are  afraid  to  come  near 
the  house  of  my  grandfather.  She  seems  to  have  no  kind  of 
fear  even  of  our  roughest  men;  and  yet  she  looks  with  rever- 
ence and  awe,  upon  the  Counsellor.  As  for  the  wickedness, 
and  theft,  and  revelry  around  her,  she  says  it  is  no  concern 


LOBNA   BEGINS  HER   STOUT.  133 

of  hers,  and  they  know  their  own  business  best.  By  this  way 
of  regarding  men,  she  has  won  upon  our  riders,  so  that  she  is 
almost  free  from  all  control  of  place  and  season,  and  is  allowed 
to  pass  where  none  even  of  the  youths  may  go.  Being  so  wide, 
and  short,  and  flat,  she  has  none  to  pay  her  compliments ;  and, 
were  there  any,  she  would  scorn  them,  as  not  being  Cornish- 
men.  Sometimes  she  wanders  far,  by  moonlight,  on  the 
moors,  and  up  the  rivers,  to  give  her  father  (as  she  says) 
another  chance  of  finding  her;  and  she  comes  back,  not  a  whit 
defeated,  or  discouraged,  but  confident  that  he  is  only  wait- 
ing for  the  proper  time. 

"  Herein  she  sets  me  good  example  of  a  patience  and  con- 
tentment, hard  for  me  to  imitate.  Oftentimes,  I  am  so  vexed 
by  things  I  cannot  meddle  with,  yet  cannot  keep  away  from 
me,  that  I  am  at  the  point  of  flying  from  this  dreadful  valley, 
and  risking  all  that  can  betide  me,  in  the  unknown  outer  world. 
If  it  were  not  for  my  grandfather,  I  would  have  done  so  long 
ago;  but  I  cannot  bear  that  he  should  die,  with  no  gentle 
hand  to  comfort  him ;  and  I  fear  to  think  of  the  conflict,  that 
must  ensue  for  the  government,  if  there  be  a  disputed  succession. 

"Ah  me!  We  are  to  be  pitied  greatly,  rather  than  con- 
demned, by  people  whose  things  we  have  taken  from  them ;  for 
I  have  read,  and  seem  almost  to  understand  about  it,  that  there 
are  places  on  the  earth  where  gentle  peace,  and  love  of  home, 
and  knowledge  of  one's  neighbors,  prevail,  and  are,  with  reason, 
looked  for  as  the  usual  state  of  things.  There  honest  folk  may 
go  to  work,  in  the  glory  of  the  sunrise,  with  hope  of  coming 
home  again,  quite  safe  in  the  quiet  evening,  and  finding  all 
their  children;  and  even  in  the  darkness,  they  have  no  fear  of 
lying  down,  and  dropping  off  to  slumber,  and  hearken  to  the 
wind  at  night,  not  as  to  an  enemy  trying  to  find  entrance,  but 
a  friend,  who  comes  to  tell  the  value  of  their  comfort. 

"  Of  all  this  golden  ease  I  hear,  but  never  saw  the  like  of  it; 
and,  haply,  I  shall  never  do  so,  being  born  to  turbulence. 
Once,  indeed,  I  had  the  offer  of  escape,  and  kinsman's  aid,  and 
high  place  in  the  gay,  bright  world ;  and  yet  I  Avas  not  tempted 
much,  or,  at  least,  dared  not  to  trust  it.  And  it  ended  very 
sadly,  so  dreadfully,  that  I  even  shrink  from  telling  you  about 
it;  for  that  one  terror  changed  my  life,  in  a  moment,  at  a  blow, 
from  childhood,  and  from  thoughts  of  play,  and  commune  with 
the  flowers  and  trees,  to  a  sense  of  death  and  darkness  and  a 
heavy  weight  of  earth.  Be  content  now,  Master  Eidd;  ask 
me  nothing  more  about  it,  so  your  sleep  be  sounder." 

But  I,  John  Ridd,  being  young  and  rash,  and  very  fond  of 


134  LORN  A   BOONE. 

hearing  things  to  make  my  blood  to  tingle,  had  no  more  of 
manners  than  to  urge  poor  Lorna  onward;  hoping,  perhaps,  in 
depth  of  heart,  that  she  might  have  to  hold  by  me,  when  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst  of  it.     Therefore  she  went  on  again. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

LORNA    ENDS    HER    STORY. 

"  It  is  scarce  a  twelvemonth  yet,  although  it  seems  ten  years 
agone,  since  I  blew  the  downy  globe,  to  learn  the  time  of  day, 
or  set  beneath  my  chin  the  veinings  of  the  varnished  buttercup, 
or  fired  the  foxglove  cannonade,  or  made  a  captive  of  myself 
with  dandelion  fetters ;  for  then  I  had  not  very  much  to  trouble 
me  in  earnest,  but  went  about,  romancing  gravely,  playing  at 
bo-peep  with  fear,  making  for  myself  strong  hej'oes,  of  gray 
rock  or  fir-tree,  adding  to  my  own  importance,  as  the  children 
love  to  do. 

"  As  yet  I  had  not  truly  learned  the  evil  of  our  living,  the 
scorn  of  law,  the  outrage,  and  the  sorrow  caused  to  others.  It 
even  was  a  point  with  all,  to  hide  the  roughness  from  me,  to 
show  me  but  the  gallant  side,  and  keej)  in  shade  the  other. 
My  grandfather.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  had  given  strictest  order, 
as  I  discovered  afterwards,  that  in  my  presence  all  should  be 
well-mannered,  kind,  and  vigilant.  Nor  was  it  very  difficult 
to  keep  most  part  of  the  mischief  from  me;  for  no  Doone  ever 
robs  at  home,  neither  do  they  quarrel  much,  except  at  times  of 
gambling.  And  though  Sir  Ensor  Doone  is  now  so  old,  and 
growing  feeble,  his  own  way  he  will  have  still,  and  no  one  dare 
deny  him.  Even  our  fiercest  and  most  mighty  swordsmen, 
seared  from  all  sense  of  right  or  wrong,  yet  have  plentiful 
sense  of  fear,  when  brought  before  that  white-haired  man. 
Not  that  he  is  rough  with  them,  or  querulous,  or  rebukeful ; 
but  that  he  has  a  strange  soft  smile,  and  a  gaze  they  cannot 
answer,  and  a  knowledge  deeper  far  than  they  have  of  them- 
selves. Under  his  protection,  I  am  as  safe  from  all  those 
men  (some  of  whom  are  not  akin  to  me)  as  if  I  slept  beneath 
the  roof  of  the  King's  Lord  Justitiary. 

"  But  now,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  one  evening  of  last  sum- 
mer, a  horrible  thing  befell,  which  took  all  play  of  childhood 
from  me.  The  fifteenth  day  of  last  July  was  very  hot  and 
sultry,  long  after  the  time  of  sundown;  and  I  was  paying  heed 


LOBNA   ENDS  HER   STORY.  135 

to  it,  because  of  the  old  saying  that  if  it  rained  then,  rain  will 
fall  on  forty  days  thereafter.  I  had  been  long  by  the  water- 
side, at  this  lower  end  of  the  valley,  plaiting  a  little  crown  of 
woodbine  crocketed  with  sprigs  of  heath, —  to  please  m}^  grand- 
father, who  likes  to  see  me  gay  at  supper-time.  Being  proud 
of  my  tiara,  which  had  cost  some  trouble,  I  set  it  on  my  head 
at  once,  to  save  the  chance  of  crushing,  and  carrying  my  gray 
hat,  ventured  by  a  path  not  often  trod.  For  I  must  be  home 
at  the  supper-time,  or  grandfather  would  be  exceeding  wroth ; 
and  the  worst  of  his  anger  is,  that  he  never  condescends  to 
show  it. 

"  Therefore  instead  of  the  open  mead,  or  the  windings  of  the 
river,  I  made  short  cut  through  the  ash-trees  covert,  which  lies 
in  the  middle  of  our  vale,  with  the  water  skirting,  or  cleaving 
it.  You  have  never  been  up  so  far  as  that  —  at  least  to  the 
best  of  my  knowledge  —  but  you  see  it,  like  a  long  gray  spot, 
from  the  top  of  the  cliffs  above  us.  Here  I  was  not  likely  to 
meet  any  of  our  people ;  because  the  young  ones  are  afraid  of 
some  ancient  tale  about  it,  and  the  old  ones  have  no  love  of 
trees,  where  gunshots  are  uncertain. 

"  It  was  more  almost  than  dusk,  down  below  the  tree-leaves ; 
and  I  was  eager  to  go  through,  and  be  again  beyond  it.  For 
the  gray  dark  hung  around  me,  scarcely  showing  shadow ;  and 
the  little  light  that  glimmered  seemed  to  come  up  from  the 
ground.  For  the  earth  was  strown  with  the  winter-spread,  and 
coil,  of  last  year's  foliage,  the  lichened  claws  of  chalky  twigs, 
and  the  numberless  decay  which  gives  a  light  in  its  decaying. 
I,  for  my  part,  liastened  shyly,  ready  to  draw  back,  and  run, 
from  hare,  or  rabbit,  or  small  field-mouse. 

"  At  a  sudden  turn  of  the  narrow  path,  where  it  stooped  again 
to  the* river,  a  man  leaped  out  from  behind  a  tree,  and  stopped 
me,  and  seized  hold  of  me.  I  tried  to  shriek,  but  my  voice 
was  still;  and  I  could  only  hear  my  heart. 

"'Now,  Cousin  Lorna,  my  good  cousin,'  he  said,  with  ease, 
and  calmness;  'your  voice  is  very  sweet,  no  doubt,  from  all 
that  I  can  see  of  you.  But  I  pray  you  keep  it  still,  unless 
you  would  give  to  dusty  death  your  very  best  cousin,  and  trusty 
guardian,  Alan  Brandir  of  Loch  Awe.' 

"  'You  my  guardian!  '  I  said,  for  the  idea  was  too  ludicrous; 
and  ludicrous  things  always  strike  me  first,  through  some  fault 
of  nature. 

"'I  have  in  truth  that  honor,  madam,'  he  answered  with  a 
sweeping  bow;  'unless  I  err  in  taking  you  for  Mistress  Lorna 
Doone.' 


136  LORN  A   BOONE. 


n  I- 


You  have  not  mistaken  me.     My  name  is  Lorna  Doone.-* 

"  He  looked  at  me  with  gravity,  and  was  inclined  to  make 
some  claim  to  closer  consideration,  upon  the  score  of  kinship ; 
but  I  shrank  back,  and  only  said,  'Yes,  my  name  is  Lorna 
Doone.' 

'"Then  I  am  your  faithful  guardian,  Alan  Brandir  of  Loch 
Awe ;  called  Lord  Alan  Brandir,  son  of  a  worthy  peer  of  Scot- 
land.    Now  will  you  confide  in  me? ' 

"  'I  confide  in  you !  '  I  cried,  looking  at  him  with  amazement; 
'why  you  are  not  older  than  I  am! ' 

" '  Yes  I  am,  three  years  at  least.  You,  my  ward,  are  not 
sixteen.  I,  your  worshipful  guardian,  am  almost  nineteen 
years  of  age !  ' 

"  Upon  hearing  this  I  looked  at  him,  for  that  seemed  then  a 
venerable  age;  but  the  more  I  looked,  the  more  I  doubted, 
although  he  was  dressed  quite  like  a  man.  He  led  me,  in  a 
courtly  manner,  stepping  at  his  tallest,  to  an  open  place  beside 
the  water;  where  the  light  came  as  in  channel,  and  was  made 
the  most  of  b}^  glancing  waves,  and  fair  white  stones. 

"'Now  am  I  to  your  liking,  cousin?  '  he  asked,  when  I  had 
gazed  at  him,  until  I  was  almost  ashamed,  except  at  such  a 
stripling.  'Does  my  Cousin  Lorna  judge  kindly  of  her  guar- 
dian, and  her  nearest  kinsman?  In  a  Avord,  is  our  admiration 
mutual? ' 

"'Truly  I  know  not,'  I  said;  'but  you  seem  good-natured, 
and  to  have  no  harm  in  you.     Do  they  trust  you  with  a  sword? 

"  For  in  my  usage  among  men  of  stature,  and  strong  pres- 
ence, this  pretty  youth,  so  tricked  and  slender,  seemed  nothing 
but  a  doll  to  me.  Although  he  scared  me  in  the  wood,  now 
that  I  saw  him  in  good  twilight,  lo!  he  was  but  little  greater 
than  my  little  self;  and  so  tasselled,  and  so  ruffled  with  a  mint 
of  bravery,  and  a  green  coat  barred  with  red,  and  a  slim  sword 
hanging  under  him,  it  was  the  utmost  I  could  do,  to  look  at 
him  half -gravely. 

"'I  fear  that  my  presence  hath  scarce  enough  of  ferocity 
about  it, '  he  gave  a  jerk  to  his  sword  as  he  spoke,  and  clanked 
it  on  the  brook-stones;  'yet  do  I  assure  you,  cousin,  that  I  am 
not  without  some  prowess ;  and  many  a  master  of  defence  hatli 
this  good  sword  of  mine  disarmed.  Now  if  the  boldest,  and 
biggest  robber  in  all  this  charming  valley,  durst  so  much  as 
breathe  the  scent  of  that  flower  coronal,  which  doth  not  adorn 
but  is  adorned  '  —  here  he  talked  some  nonsense  — '  I  would 
cleave  him,  from  head  to  foot,  ere  ever  he  could  fly  or  cry. ' 

"'Hush!  '  I  said;  'talk  not  so  loudly,  or  thou  mayest  have 
to  do  both,  thyself;  and  do  them  both  in  vain.' 


"Is     OUR     ADMIRATION     MUTUAL  ?"  — Vol.    I.    p.    136. 


LORN  A   ENDS  HER    STORY.  137 

"  For  he  was  quite  forgetting  now,  in  his  bravery  before  me, 
where  he  stood,  and  with  whom  he  spoke,  and  how  the  summer 
lightning  shone,  above  the  hills,  and  down  the  hollow.  And 
as  I  gazed  on  this  slight  fair  youth,  clearly  one  of  high  birth 
and  breeding  (albeit  over-boastful),  a  chill  of  fear  crept  over 
me ;  because  he  had  no  strength  or  substance,  and  would  be  no 
more  than  a  pin-cushion,  before  the  great  swords  of  the  Doones. 

" 'I  pray  you  be  not  vexed  with  me,'  he  answered  in  a  softer 
voice;  'for  I  have  travelled  far  and  sorely,  for  the  sake  of  see- 
ing you.  I  know  right  well  among  whom  I  am,  and  that  their 
hospitality  is  more  of  the  knife  than  the  salt-stand.  Never- 
theless I  am  safe  enough,  for  my  foot  is  the  fleetest  in  Scot- 
land; and  what  are  such  hills  as  these  to  me?  Tush!  I  have 
seen  some  border  forays,  among  wilder  spirits,  and  craftier 
men  than  these  be.  Once  I  mind  some  years  agone,  when  I 
was  quite  a  stripling  lad,' 

'"Worshipful  guardian, '  I  said,  'there  is  no  time  now  for 
history.  If  thou  art  in  no  haste,  I  am,  and  cannot  stay  here 
idling.  Only  tell  me,  how  I  am  akin  and  under  wardship  to 
thee,  and  what  purpose  brings  thee  here.' 

"  '  In  order,  cousin  —  all  things  in  order,  even  with  fair  ladies. 
First,  I  am  thy  uncle's  son,  my  father  is  thy  mother's  brother, 
or  at  least  thy  grandmother's,  —  unless  I  am  deceived  in  that 
which  I  have  guessed,  and  no  other  man.  For  my  father,  being 
a  leading  lord  in  the  councils  of  King  Charles  the  Second, 
appointed  me  to  learn  the  law;  not  for  my  livelihood,  thank 
God,  but  because  he  felt  the  lack  of  it  in  affairs  of  state.  But 
first,  your  leave,  young  Mistress  Lorna;  I  cannot  lay  down 
legal  maxims,  without  aid  of  smoke.' 

"  He  leaned  against  a  willow-tree,  and  drawing  from  a  gilded 
box  a  little  dark  thing  like  a  stick,  placed  it  between  his  lips, 
and  then  striking  a  flint  on  steel,  made  fire,  and  caught  it  upon 
touchwood.  With  this  he  kindled  the  tip  of  the  stick,  until  it 
glowed  with  a  ring  of  red,  and  then  he  breathed  forth  curls  of 
smoke,  blue,  and  smelling  on  the  air,  like  spice.  I  had  never 
seen  this  done  before,  though  acquainted  with  tobacco-pipes; 
and  it  made  me  laugh,  until  I  thought  of  the  peril  that  must 
follow  it. 

"'Cousin,  have  no  fear,'  he  said;  'this  makes  me  all  the 
safer :  they  will  take  me  for  a  glow-worm,  and  thee  for  the 
flower  it  shines  upon.  But  to  return  —  of  law  I  learned,  as  you 
may  suppose,  but  little;  although  I  have  capacities.  But  the 
thing  was  far  too  dull  for  me.  x\ll  I  care  for  is  adventure, 
moving   chance,   and  hot  encounter;    therefore  all  of   law  I 


138  LOIiNA   I)00^'E. 

learned,  was  liow  to  live  without  it.  Nevertheless^  for  amuse- 
ment's sake,  as  I  must  needs  be  at  my  desk  an  hour  or  so  in 
the  afternoon,  I '  took  to  the  sporting  branch  of  the  law,  the 
pitfalls,  and  the  ambuscades ;  and  of  all  the  traps  to  be  laid 
therein,  pedigrees  are  the  rarest.  There  is  scarce  a  man  worth 
a  cross  of  butter,  but  what  you  may  find  a  hole  in  his  shield,- 
within  four  generations.  And  so  I  struck  our  own  escutcheon, 
and  it  sounded  hollow.  There  is  a  point  —  but  heed  not  that ; 
enough  that  being  curious  now,  I  followed  up  the  quarry,  and  I 
am  come  to  this  at  last  —  we,  even  we,  the  lords  of  Loch  Awe, 
have  an  outlaw  for  our  cousin ;  and  I  would  we  had  more,  if  they 
be  like  you.' 

"'Sir,'  I  answered,  being  amused  by  his  manner,  which  was 
new  to  me  (for  the  Doones  are  much  in  earnest),  'surely  you 
count  it  no  disgrace,  to  be  of  kin  to  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  all 
his  honest  family !  ' 

'"If  it  be  so,  it  is  in  truth  the  very  highest  honor,  and  would 
heal  ten  holes  in  our  escutcheon.  What  noble  family,  but 
springs  from  a  captain  among  robbers?  Trade  alone  can  spoil 
our  blood ;  robbery  purifies  it.  The  robbery  of  one  age  is  the 
chivalry  of  the  next.  We  may  start  anew,  and  vie  with  even 
the  nobility  of  France,  if  we  can  once  enrol  but  half  the  Doones 
upon  our  lineage.' 

"'I  like  not  to  hear  you  speak  of  the  Doones,  as  if  they  were 
no  more  than  that, '  I  exclaimed,  being  now  unreasonable ;  'but 
will  you  tell  me,  once  for  all,  sir,  how  you  are  my  guardian? ' 
" '  That  I  will  do.  You  are  my  ward,  because  you  were  my 
father's  ward,  under  the  Scottish  law;  and  now  my  father 
being  so  deaf,  I  have  succeeded  to  that  right  —  at  least  in  my 
own  opinion  —  under  which  claim  1  am  here,  to  neglect  my 
trust  no  longer,  but  to  lead  you  away  from  scenes  and  deeds, 
which  (though  of  good  repute  and  comely)  are  not  the  best  for 
young  gentlewomen.  There,  spoke  I  not  like  a  guardian? 
After  that  can  you  mistrust  me?' 

'■'But,'  said  I,  'good  cousin  Alan  (if  I  may  so  call  you),  it 
is  not  meet  for  young  gentlewomen,  to  go  away  with  young 
gentlemen,  though  fifty  times  their  guardians.  But  if  you 
will  only  come  with  me,  and  explain  your  tale  to  my  grand- 
father, he  will  listen  to  you  quietly,  and  take  no  advantage  of 
you.' 

"'I  thank  you  much,  kind  Mistress  Lorna,  to  lead  the  goose 
into  the  fox's  den!  But,  setting  by  all  thought  of  danger,  I 
have  other  reasons  against  it.  Now,  come  with  your  faithful 
guardian,  child.     I  will  pledge  my  honor  against  all  harm, 


LORN  A   ENDS  HEB    STORY.  139 

and  to  bear  you  safe  to  London.  By  the  law  of  the  realm,  I 
am  now  entitled  to  the  custody  of  your  fair  person,  and  of  all 
your  chattels.' 

"'But,  sir,  all  that  you  have  learned  of  law,  is  how  to  live 
without  it.' 

'"Fairly  met,  fair  cousin  mine !  Your  wit  will  do  me  credit, 
after  a  little  sharpening.  And  there  is  none  to  do  that  better 
than  your  aunt,  my  mother.  Although  she  knows  not  of  my 
coming,  she  is  longing  to  receive  you.  Come;  and  in  a  few 
months'  time,  you  shall  set  the  mode  at  Court,  instead  of  pin- 
ing here,  and  weaving  coronals  of  daisies.' 

"I  turned  aside,  and  thought  a  little.  Although  he  seemed 
so  light  of  mind,  and  gay  in  dress  and  manner,  I  could  not 
doubt  his  honesty ;  and  saw,  beneath  his  jaunty  air,  true  mettle, 
and  ripe  bravery.  Scarce  had  I  thought  of  his  project  twice, 
until  he  spoke  of  my  aunt,  his  mother ;  but  then  the  form  of 
my  dearest  friend,  my  sweet  aunt  Sabina,  seemed  to  come,  and 
bid  me  listen;  for  this  was  what  she  had  prayed  for.  More- 
over I  felt  (though  not  as  noAv)  that  Doone  Glen  was  no  place 
for  me,  or  any  proud  young  maiden.  But  while  I  thought,  the 
yellow  lightning  spread  behind  a  bulk  of  clouds,  three  times 
ere  the  flash  was  done,  far  off,  and  void  of  thunder;  and  from 
the  pile  of  cloud  before  it,  cut  as  from  black  paper,  and  lit  to 
depths  of  blackness  by  the  blaze  behind  it,  a  form  as  of  an  aged 
man,  sitting  in  a  chair,  loose-mantled,  seemed  to  lift  a  hand, 
and  warn. 

"  This  minded  me  of  my  grandfather,  and  all  the  care  I  owed 
him.  Moreover,  now  the  storm  was  rising,  and  I  began  to 
grow  afraid;  for  of  all  things  awful  to  me,  thunder  is  the 
dreadfulest.  It  doth  so  growl,  like  a  lion  coming;  and  then 
so  roll,  and  roar,  and  rumble,  out  of  a  thickening  darkness; 
then  crack  like  the  last  trump  overhead,  through  cloven  air 
and  terror ;  tliat  all  my  heart  lies  low  and  quivers,  like  a  weed 
in  water.  I  listened  now  for  the  distant  rolling  of  the  great 
black  storm,  and  heard  it,  and  was  hurried  by  it.  But  the 
youth  before  me  waved  his  rolled  tobacco  at  it,  and  drawled  in 
his  daintiest  tone  and  manner, — 

" '  The  sky  is  having  a  smoke,  I  see,  and  dropping  sparks, 
and  grumbling.  I  should  have  thought  these  Exmoor  hills 
too  small  to  gather  thunder.' 

"  ^  I  cannot  go,  I  will  not  go  with  you.  Lord  Alan  Brandir, ' 
I  answered,  being  vexed  a  little  by  those  words  of  his.  -'You 
are  not  grave  enough  for  me,  you  are  not  old  enough  for  me. 
My  Aunt  Sabina  would  not  have  wished  it;  nor  would  I  leave 


140  LOENA   BOONE. 

my  grandfather,  without  his  full  permission.  I  thank  you 
much  for  coming,  sir;  but  be  gone  at  once  by  the  way  you 
came;  and  pray  how  did  you  come,  sir?' 

"'Fair  cousin,  you  will  grieve  for  this;  you  will  mourn, 
when  you  cannot  mend  it.  I  would  my  mother  had  been  here ; 
soon  would  she  have  persuaded  you.  And  yet, '  he  added,  with 
the  smile  of  his  accustomed  gaiety,  '  it  would  have  been  an  unco 
thing,  as  we  say  in  Scotland,  for  her  ladyship  to  have  waited 
upon  you,  as  her  graceless  son  has  done,  and  hopes  to  do  again 
ere  long.  Down  the  cliffs  I  came ;  and  up  them  I  must  make 
way  back  again.  ^N'ow  adieu,  fair  cousin  Lorna,  I  see  you  are 
in  iiaste  to-night;  but  I  am  right  proud  of  my  guardianship. 
Give  me  just  one  flower  for  token  '  —  here  he  kissed  his  hand 
to  me,  and  I  threw  him  a  truss  of  woodbine — 'adieu,  fair 
cousin,  trust  me  well,  I  will  soon  be  here  again.' 

"'That  thou  never  shalt,  sir,'  cried  a  voice  as  loud  as  a 
culverin;  and  Carver  Doone  had  Alan  Brandir,  as  a  spider 
hath  a  fly.  The  bo}^  made  a  little  shriek  at  flrst,  with  the  sud- 
den shock  and  the  terror;  then  he  looked,  methought,  ashamed 
of  himself,  and  set  his  face  to  fight  for  it.  Very  bravely  he 
strove,  and  struggled,  to  free  one  arm,  and  to  grasp  his  sword; 
but  as  well  might  an  infant  buried  alive  attempt  to  lift  his 
gravestone.  Carver  Doone,  with  his  great  arms  Avrapped 
around  the  slim  gay  body,  smiled  (as  I  saw  by  the  flash  from 
lieaven)  at  the  poor  young  face  turned  up  to  him ;  then  (as  a 
nurse  bears  off  a  child,  who  is  loth  to  go  to  bed)  he  lifted  the 
youth  from  his  feet,  and  bore  him  away  into  the  darkness. 

"  I  was  young  then.  I  am  older  now :  older  by  ten  years, 
in  thought,  although  it  is  not  a  twelvemonth  since.  If  that 
black  deed  were  done  again,  I  could  follow,  and  could  combat 
it,  could  throw  weak  arms  on  the  murderer,  and  strive  to  be 
murdered  also.  I  am  now  at  home  with  violence;  and  no  dark 
death  surprises  me. 

"But,  being  as  I  was  that  night,  the  horror  overcame  me. 
The  crash  of  thunder  overhead,  the  last  despairing  look,  the 
death-piece  framed  with  blaze  of  lightning — my  young  heart 
was  so  affrighted,  that  I  could  not  gasp.  My  breath  went  from 
me,  and  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  or  who,  or  what.  Only  that 
I  lay,  and  cowered,  under  great  trees  full  of  thunder ;  and  could 
neither  count,  nor  moan,  nor  have  m}^  feet  to  help  me. 

"  Yet  hearkening,  as  a  coward  does,  through  the  wailing  of 
the  wind,  and  echo  of  far  noises,  I  heard  a  sharp  sound  as  of 
iron,  and  a  fall  of  heavy  wood.  No  unmanly  shriek  came  with 
it.  neither  cry  for  mercy.  Carver  Doone  knows  what  it  Avas; 
and  so  did  Alan  Brandir." 


A    LOJSG    SPUING   MONTH.  141 

Here  Lorna  Doone  could  tell  no  more,  being  overcome  with 
weeping.  Only  through  her  tears  she  whispered,  as  a  thing 
too  bad  to  tell,  that  she  had  seen  that  giant  Carver,  in  a  few 
days  afterwards,  smoking  a  little  round  brown  stick,  like  those 
of  her  poor  cousin.  I  could  not  press  her  any  more  with  ques- 
tions, or  for  clearness ;  although  I  longed  very  mucli  to  know, 
whether  she  had  spoken  of  it,  to  her  grandfather,  or  the  Coun- 
sellor. But  she  was  now  in  such  condition,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  from  the  force  of  her  own  fear  multiplied  by  telling  it, 
that  I  did  nothing  more  than  coax  her,  at  a  distance  humbly; 
and  so  that  she  could  see  that  some  one  was  at  least  afraid  of 
her.  This  (although  I  knew  not  women  in  those  days,  as  now 
I  do,  and  never  shall  know  much  of  it),  this,  I  say,  sx)  brought 
her  round,  that  all  her  fear  was  now  for  me,  and  how  to  get  me 
safely  off,  without  mischance  to  any  one.  And  sooth  to  say, 
in  spite  of  longing  just  to  see  if  Master  Carver  could  have 
served  me  such  a  trick  —  as  it  grew  towards  the  dusk,  I  was  not 
best  pleased  to  be  there;  for  it  seemed  a  lawless  place,  and 
some  of  Lorna' s  fright  stayed  with  me,  as  I  talked  it  away 
from  her. 


CHAPTEE   XXII. 

A    LONG    SPRING    MONTH. 

After  hearing  that  tale  from  Lorna,  I  went  home  in  sorry 
spirits,  having  added  fear  for  her,  and  misery  about  her,  to  all 
my  other  ailments.  And  was  it  not  quite  certain  now,  that 
she  being  owned  full  cousin  to  a  peer  and  lord  of  Scotland 
(although  he  was  a  dead  one),  must  have  naught  to  do  with 
me,  a  yeoman's  son,  and  bound  to  be  the  father  of  more  yeo- 
men? I  had  been  sorry,  when  first  I  heard  about  that  poor 
young  popinjay,  and  would  gladly  have  fought  hard  for  him : 
but  now  it  struck  me  that  after  all  he  had  no  right  to  be  there, 
prowling  (as  it  were)  for  Lorna,  without  any  invitation :  and 
we  farmers  love  not  trespass.  Still,  if  I  had  seen  the  thing, 
I  must  have  tried  to  save  him. 

Moreover,  I  was  greatly  vexed  with  my  own  hesitation, 
stupidity,  or  shyness,  or  whatever  else  it  was,  which  had  held 
me  back  from  saying,  ere  she  told  her  stor}^,  what  was  in  my 
heart  to  say,  videlicet,  that  I  must  die  unless  she  let  me  love 
her.     Kot  that  I  was  fool  enoudi   to   tliiiik   that  she  would 


142  LORNA   BOONE. 

answer  me  according  to  my  liking,  or  begin  to  care  about  me 
for  a  long  time  yet ;  if  indeed  she  ever  should,  which  1  hardly 
dared  to  hope.  But  that  I  had  heard  from  men  more  skilful 
in  the  matter,  that  it  is  wise  to  be  in  time,  that  so  the  maids- 
may  begin  to  think,  when  they  know  that  they  are  thought  of. 
And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  bitter  fears,  on  account  of  her 
wondrous  beauty,  lest  some  young  fellow  of  higher  birth,  and 
finer  parts,  and  finish,  might  steal  in  before  poor  me,  and  cut 
me  out  altogether.  Thinking  of  which,  I  used  to  double  my 
great  fist,  without  knowing  it,  and  keep  it  in  my  pocket  ready. 

But  the  worst  of  all  was  this,  that  in  my  great  dismay  and 
anguish  to  see  Lorna  weeping  so,  I  had  promised  not  to  cause 
her  any  further  trouble  from  anxiety  and  fear  of  harm.  And 
this,  being  brought  to  practice,  meant  that  I  was  not  to  show 
myself  within  the  precincts  of  Glen  Doone,  for  at  least  another 
month.  Unless  indeed  (as  I  contrived  to  edge  into  the  agree- 
ment) anything  should  happen  to  increase  her  present  trouble 
and  every  day's  uneasiness.  In  that  case,  she  was  to  throw  a 
dark  mantle,  or  covering  of  some  sort,  over  a  large  white  stone, 
which  hung  within  the  entrance  to  her  retreat  —  I  mean  the 
outer  entrance  —  and  which,  though  unseen  from  the  valley 
itself,  was  (as  I  had  observed)  conspicuous  from  the  height 
where  I  stood  with  Uncle  Beuben. 

Xow  coming  home  so  sad  and  weary,  yet  trying  to  console 
myself  with  the  thought  that  love  o'erleapeth  rank,  and  must 
still  be  lord  of  all,  I  found  a  shameful  thing  going  on,  which 
made  me  very  angry.  For  it  needs  must  happen  that  young 
Marwood  de  Whichehalse,  only  son  of  the  Baron,  riding  home 
that  very  evening,  from  chasing  of  the  Exmoor  bustards,  with 
his  hounds  and  serving-men,  should  take  the  short  cut  through 
our  farm-yard,  and  being  dry  from  his  exercise,  should  come 
and  ask  for  drink.  And  it  needs  must  happen  also  that  there 
should  be  none  to  give  it  to  him  but  my  sister  Annie.  I  more 
than  suspect  that  he  had  heard  some  report  of  our  Annie's 
comeliness,  and  had  a  mind  to  satisfy  himself  upon  the  sub- 
ject. Now,  as  he  took  the  large  ox-horn  of  our  quarantine- 
apple  cider  (which  we  always  keep  apart  from  the  rest,  being 
too  good  except  for  the  quality),  he  let  his  fingers  dwell  on 
Annie's,  by  some  sort  of  accident,  while  he  lifted  his  beaver 
gallantly,  and  gazed  on  her  face  in  the  light  from  the  west. 
Then  what  did  Annie  do  (as  she  herself  told  me  afterwards) 
but  make  her  very  best  courtesy  to  him,  being  pleased  that  he 
was  pleased  with  her,  while  she  thought  what  a  fine  young 
man  he  was,  and  so  much  breeding  about  him!     And  in  truth 


A   LONG    SPBING   MONTH.  143 

he  was  a  dark,  handsome  fellow,  hasty,  reckless,  and  change- 
able, with  a  look  of  sad  destiny  in  his  black  eyes  that  would 
make  any  woman  pity  him.  What  he  was  thinking  of  our 
Annie  is  not  for  me  to  say;  although  I  may  think  that  you 
could  not  have  found  another  such  maiden  on  Exmoor,  except 
(of  course)  my  Lorna. 

Though  young  Squire  Marwood  was  so  thirsty,  he  spent 
much  time  over  his  cider,  or  at  any  rate  over  the  ox-horn,  and 
he  made  many  bows  to  Annie,  and  drank  health  to  all  the 
family,  and  spoke  of  me  as  if  I  had  been  his  very  best  friend 
at  Blundell's;  whereas  he  knew  well  enough,  all  the  time,  that 
we  had  naught  to  say  to  one  another;  he  being  three  years 
older,  and  therefore  loftily  disdaining  me.  But  while  he  was 
casting  about  perhaps  for  some  excuse  to  stop  longer,  and  Annie 
was  beginning  to  fear  lest  mother  sliould  come  after  her,  or 
Eliza  be  at  the  window,  or  Betty  up  in  pigs'  house,  suddenly 
there  came  up  to  them,  as  if  from  the  very  heart  of  the  earth, 
that  long,  low,  hollow,  mysterious  sound,  which  I  spoke  of  in 
the  winter. 

The  young  man  started  in  his  saddle,  let  the  horn  fall  on 
the  horse-steps,  and  gazed  all  around  in  wonder;  while  as 
for  Annie,  she  turned  like  a  ghost,  and  tried  to  slam  the  door, 
but  failed  through  the  violence  of  her  trembling ;  for  never  till 
now  had  any  one  heard  it  so  close  at  hand  (as  you  might  say), 
or  in  the  mere  fall  of  the  twilight.  And  by  this  time  there 
was  no  man,  at  least  in  our  parish,  but  knew  —  for  the  Parson 
himself  had  told  us  so  —  that  it  w^as  the  devil  groaning,  because 
the  Doones  were  too  many  for  him. 

Marwood  de  Whichehalse  was  not  so  alarmed  but  what  he 
saw  a  fine  opportunity.  He  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  laid 
hold  of  dear  Annie  in  a  highly  comforting  manner;  and  she 
never  would  tell  us  about  it  (being  so  shy  and  modest),  whether 
in  breathing  his  comfort  to  her,  he  tried  to  take  some  from  her 
pure  lips.  I  hope  he  did  not,  because  that  to  me  would  seem 
not  the  deed  of  a  gentleman,  and  he  was  of  good  old  family. 

At  this  very  moment,  who  should  come  in  to  the  end  of  the 
passage  upon  them,  but  the  heavy  writer  of  these  doings,  I, 
John  Ridel  myself,  and  walking  the  faster,  it  may  be,  on  account 
of  the  noise  I  mentioned?  I  entered  the  house  with  some  wrath 
upon  me  at  seeing  the  gazehounds  in  the  yard;  for  it  seems  a 
cruel  thing  to  me  to  harass  the  birds  in  the  breeding-time. 
And  to  my  amazement  there  I  saw  Squire  Marwood  among 
the  milk-pans,  with  his  arm  around  our  Annie's  waist,  and 
Annie  all  blushing  and  coaxing  him  off,  for  she  was  not  come 
to  scold  yet. 


144  LORNA   DOONE. 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong;  God  knows,  and  if  I  was,  no  doubt  I 
shall  pay  for  it;  but  I  gave  him  the  flat  of  my  hand  on  his  head, 
and  down  he  went  in  the  thick  of  the  milk-pans.  He  would 
have  had  my  fist,  I  doubt,  but  for  having  been  at  school  with 
me;  and  after  that,  it  is  like  enough  he  would  never  have 
spoken  another  word.  As  it  was,  he  lay  stunned,  with  the 
cream  running  on  him;  while  I  took  poor  Annie  up,  and  car- 
ried her  in  to  mother,  who  had  heard  the  noise,  and  was  fright- 
ened. 

Concerning  this  matter  I  asked  no  more,  but  held  myself 
ready  to  bear  it  out  in  any  form  convenient,  feeling  that  I  had 
done  my  duty,  and  cared  not  for  the  consequence;  only  for 
several  days  dear  Annie  seemed  frightened,  rather  than  grate- 
ful. But  the  oddest  result  of  it  was  that  Eliza,  who  had  so 
despised  me,  and  made  very  rude  verses  about  me,  now  came 
trying  to  sit  on  my  knee,  and  kiss  me,  and  give  me  the  best  of 
the  pan.  However,  I  would  not  allow  it,  because  I  hate  sud- 
den changes. 

Another  thing  also  astonished  me  —  namely,  a  beautiful 
letter  from  Marwood  de  Whichehalse  himself  (sent  by  a  groom 
soon  afterwards),  in  which  he  apologized  to  me,  as  if  I  had 
been  his  equal,  for  his  rudeness  to  my  sister,  which  was  not 
intended  in  the  least,  but  came  of  their  common  alarm  at  the 
moment,  and  his  desire  to  comfort  her.  Also  he  begged  per- 
mission to  come  and  see  me,  as  an  old  schoolfellow,  and  set 
everything  straight  between  us,  as  should  be  among  honest 
Blundellites. 

All  this  was  so  different  to  my  idea  of  fighting  out  a  quar- 
rel, when  once  it  is  upon  a  man,  that  I  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  it,  but  bowed  to  higher  breeding.  Only  one  thing  I  resolved 
upon,  that  come  when  he  would,  he  should  not  see  Annie. 
And  to  do  my  sister  justice,  she  had  no  desire  to  see  him. 

However,  I  am  too  easy,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  being 
very  quick  to  forgive  a  man,  and  very  slow  to  suspect,  unless 
he  hath  once  lied  to  me.  Moreover,  as  to  Annie,  it  had 
always  seemed  to  me  (much  against  my  wishes)  that  some 
shrewd  love  of  a  waiting  sort  was  between  her  and  Tom 
Faggus :  and  though  Tom  had  made  his  fortune  now,  and 
every  body  respected  him,  he  was  not  yet  to  be  compared,  in 
that  point  of  respectability,  with  those  people  who  hanged 
the  robbers,  when  fortune  turned  against  them. 

So  young  Squire  Marwood  came  again,  as  though  I  had 
never  smitten  him,  and  spoke  of  it  in  as  light  a  way,  as  if  we 
were  still  at  school  together.     It  was  not  in  my  nature,  at  all. 


A   LONG   SPRING  MONTR.  145 

to  keep  any  anger  against  him ;  and  I  knew  what  a  condescen- 
sion it  was  for  him  to  visit  us.  And  it  is  a  very  grievous 
thing,  which  touches  small  land-owners,  to  see  an  ancient 
family  day  by  day  decaying:  and  when  we  heard  that  Ley 
Barton  itself,  and  all  the  Manor  of  Lynton,  were  under  a 
heavy  mortgage  debt  to  John  Lovering  of  Weare-Gifford,  there 
was  not  much,  in  our  little  way,  that  we  would  not  gladly  do 
or  suffer,  for  the  benefit  of  De  Whichehalse. 

Meanwhile  the  work  of  the  farm  was  toward,  and  every  day 
gave  us  more  ado  to  dispose  of  what  itself  was  doing.  For 
after  the  long  dry  skeltering  wind  of  March  and  part  of  April, 
there  had  been  a  fortnight  of  soft  wet;  and  when  the  sun  came 
forth  again,  hill  and  valley,  wood  and  meadow,  could  not 
make  enough  of  him.  Many  a  s^^ring  have  I  seen  since  then, 
but  never  yet  two  springs  alike,  and  never  one  so  beautiful. 
Or  was  it  that  my  love  came  forth  and  touched  the  world  with 
beauty? 

The  spring  was  in  our  valley  now;  creeping  first  for  shelter 
shyly  in  the  pause  of  the  blustering  wind.  There  the  lambs 
came  bleating  to  her,  and  the  orchis  lifted  up,  and  the  thin 
dead  leaves  of  clover  lay,  for  the  new  ones  to  spring  through. 
Then  the  stiffest  things  that  sleep,  the  stubby  oak,  and  the 
stunted  beech,  dropped  their  brown  defiance  to  her,  and  pre- 
pared for  a  soft  reply.  While  her  over-eager  children  (who 
had  started  forth  to  meet  her,  through  the  frost  and  shower 
of  sleet),  catkin'd  hazel,  gold-gloved  withy,  youthful  elder,  and 
old  woodbine,  with  all  the  tribe  of  good  hedge-climbers  (who 
must  hasten,  while  haste  they  may)  —  was  there  one  of  them, 
that  did  not  claim  the  merit  of  coming  first? 

There  she  stayed,  and  held  her  revel,  as  soon  as  the  fear  of 
frost  was  gone ;  all  the  air  was  a  fount  of  freshness,  and  the 
earth  of  gladness,  and  the  laughing  waters  prattled  of  the 
kindness  of  the  sun. 

But  all  this  made  it  much  harder  for  us,  plying  the  hoe  and 
harrow,  to  keep  the  fields  with  room  upon  them  for  the  corn 
to  tiller.  The  winter  wheat  was  well  enough,  being  sturdy 
and  strong-sided;  but  the  spring  wheat,  and  the  barley,  and 
oats  were  overrun  by  ill  weeds  growing  faster.  Therefore,  as 
the  old  saying  is,  — 

"  Farmer,  that  thy  wife  may  thrive, 
Let  not  burr  and  burdock  wive  ; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  keep  thy  son. 
See  that  bine  and  gith  have  none." 

VOL.  I.  — 10 


146  LORNA   DOONE. 

So  we  were  compelled  to  go  clown  the  field  and  up  it,  strik- 
ing in  and  out  with  care  where  the  green  blades  hung  together, 
so  that  each  had  space  to  move  in,  and  to  spread  its  roots 
abroad.  And  I  do  assure  you  now,  though  you  may  not  be- 
lieve me,  it  was  harder  work  to  keep  John  Fry,  Bill  Dadds, 
and  Jem  Slocomb  all  in  a  line,  and  all  moving  nimbly  to  the 
tune  of  my  own  tool,  than  it  was  to  set  out  in  the  morning 
alone,  and  hoe  half-an-acre  by  dinner-time.  For,  instead  of 
keeping  the  good  ash  moving,  they  would  for  ever  be  finding 
something  to  look  at,  or  to  speak  of,  or  at  any  rate,  to  stop 
with;  blaming  the  shape  of  their  tools  perhaps,  or  talking 
about  other  people's  affairs;  or  what  was  most  irksome  of  all 
to  me,  taking  advantage  as  married  men,  and  whispering  jokes 
of  no  excellence,  about  my  having,  or  having  not,  or  being- 
ashamed  of  a  sweetheart.  And  this  went  so  far  at  last,  that 
I  was  forced  to  take  two  of  them,  and  knock  their  heads 
together;  after  which  they  worked  with  a  better  will. 

When  we  met  together  in  the  evening  round  the  kitchen 
chimney-place,  after  the  men  had  had  their  supper,  and  their 
heavy  boots  were  gone,  my  mother,  and  Eliza,  would  do  their 
very  utmost  to  learn  what  I  was  thinking  of.  Xot  that  we 
kept  any  fire  now,  after  the  crock  was  emptied ;  but  that  we 
loved  to  see  the  ashes  cooling,  and  to  be  together.  At  these 
times,  Annie  would  never  ask  me  any  crafty  questions  (as 
Eliza  did),  but  would  sit  with  her  hair  untwined,  and  one 
hand  underneath  her  chin,  sometimes  looking  softly  at  me,  as 
much  as  to  say  that  she  knew  it  all,  and  I  was  no  worse  off 
than  she.  But,  strange  to  say,  my  mother  dreamed  not,  even 
for  an  instant,  that  it  was  possible  for  Annie  to  be  thinking 
of  such  a  thing.  She  was  so  very  good  and  quiet,  and  careful 
of  the  linen,  and  clever  about  the  cookery,  and  fowls,  and 
bacon-curing,  that  people  used  to  laugh,  and  say  she  would 
never  look  at  a  bachelor,  until  her  mother  ordered  her.  But 
I  (perhaps  from  my  own  condition,  and  the  sense  of  what  it 
was)  felt  no  certainty  about  this,  and  even  had  another  opin- 
ion, as  was  said  before. 

Often  I  was  much  inclined  to  speak  to  her  about  it,  and  put 
her  on  her  guard  against  the  approaches  of  Tom  Faggus ;  but 
I  could  not  find  how  to  begin,  and  feared  to  make  a  breach 
between  us;  knowing  that  if  her  mind  was  set,  no  words  of 
mine  would  alter  it;  although  they  needs  must  grieve  her 
deeply.  Moreover,  I  felt  that,  in  this  case,  a  certain  homely 
Devonshire  proverb  would  come  home  to  me;  that  one,  I 
mean,  which  records  that   the   crock  was  calling  the   kettle 


A   BOYAL   INVITATION.  147 

smutty.  Not,  of  course,  that  I  compared  ni}-  innocent  maid 
to  a  highwayman;  but  that  Annie  might  think  her  worse,  and 
would  be  too  apt  to  do  so,  if  indeed  she  loved  Tom  Faggus. 
And  our  cousin  Tom,  by  this  time,  was  living  a  quiet  and 
godly  life ;  having  retired  almost  from  the  trade  (except  when 
he  needed  excitement,  or  came  across  public  officers),  and 
having  won  the  esteem  of  all  whose  purses  were  in  his  power. 

Perhaps  it  is  needless  for  me  to  say,  that  all  this  time, 
while  my  month  was  running  —  or  rather  crawling,  for  never 
month  went  so  slow  as  that  with  me  —  neither  weed,  nor  seed, 
nor  cattle,  nor  my  own  mother's  anxiety,  nor  any  care  for  my 
sister,  kept  me  from  looking  once  every  day,  and  even  twice 
on  a  Sunday,  for  any  sign  of  Lorna.  For  my  heart  was  ever 
weary;  in  the  budding  valleys,  and  by  the  crystal  waters, 
looking  at  the  lambs  in  fold,  or  the  heifers  on  the  hill,  labor- 
ing in  trickled  furrows,  or  among  the  beaded  blades ;  halting 
fresh  to  see  the  sun  lift  over  the  golden-vajDored  ridge;  or 
doffing  hat,  from  sweat  of  brow,  to  watch  him  sink  in  the  low 
gray  sea;  be  it  as  it  would,  of  day,  of  work,  or  night,  or 
slumber,  it  was  a  weary  heart  I  bore,  and  fear  was  on  the 
brink  of  it. 

All  the  beauty  of  the  spring  went  for  happy  men  to  think 
of;  all  the  increase  of  the  year  was  for  other  eyes  to  mark. 
Not  a  sign  of  any  sunrise  for  me,  from  my  fount  of  life ;  not 
a  breath  to  stir  the  dead  leaves  fallen  on  my  heart's  Spring. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

A    ROYAL    IXVITATIOX. 

Although  I  had,  for  the  most  part,  so  very  stout  an  appe- 
tite, that  none  but  mother  saw  any  need  of  encouraging  me  to 
eat,  I  could  only  manage  one  true  good  meal  in  a  day,  at  the 
time  I  speak  of.  Mother  was  in  despair  at  this,  and  tempted 
me  with  the  whole  of  the  rack,  and  even  thought  of  sending 
to  Porlock  for  a  druggist  who  came  there  twice  in  a  week ;  and 
Annie  spent  all  her  time  in  cooking;  and  even  Lizzie  sang 
songs  to  me;  for  she  could  sing  very  sweetly.  But  my  con- 
science told  me  that  Betty  Muxworthy  had  some  reason  upon 
her  side. 

"Latt  the  young  ozebird  aloun,  zay  I.  Makk  zuch  ado 
about  un,  wi'  hogs'-puddens^  and  hock-bits,  and  lambs '-mate, 


148  LORNA   nOONE. 

and  whaten  bradd  indade,  and  brewers'  ale  avore  dinner-time, 
and  her  not  to  zit  wi'  no  winder  aupen  —  draive  me  mad  'e 
doo,  the  lot  OA^'ee,  zuch  a  passel  of  voouls.  Do'  un  good  to 
starve  a  bit;  and  takk  zome  on's  wackedness  out  ov  un." 

But  mother  did  not  see  it  so;  and  she  even  sent  for  Nicholas 
Snowe  to  bring  his  three  daughters  with  him,  and  have  ale 
and  cake  in  the  parlor,  and  advise  about  what  the  bees  were 
doing,  and  when  a  swarm  might  be  looked  for.  Being  vexed 
about  this,  and  having  to  stop  at  home  nearly  half  the  even- 
ing, I  lost  good  manners  so  much  as  to  ask  him  (even  in  our 
own  house!)  what  he  meant  by  not  mending  the  swing-hurdle, 
where  the  Lynn  stream  flows  from  our  land  into  his,  and  which 
he  is  bound  to  maintain.  But  he  looked  at  me  in  a  suj^erior 
manner,  and  said,  "Business,  young  man,  in  business  time." 

I  had  other  reason  for  being  vexed  with  Farmer  Nicholas 
just  now,  viz.  that  I  had  heard  a  rumor,  after  church  one  Sun- 
day—  when  most  of  all  we  sorrow  over  the  sins  of  one  another 
—  that  Master  Nicholas  Snowe  had  been  seen  to  gaze  tenderly 
at  my  mother,  during  a  passage  of  the  sermon,  wherein  the 
parson  spoke  well  and  warmly  about  the  duty  of  Christian  love. 
Now,  putting  one  thing  with  another,  about  the  bees,  and 
about  some  ducks,  and  a  bullock  with  a  broken  knee-cap,  I 
more  than  suspected  that  Farmer  Nicholas  was  casting 
sheep's  eyes  at  my  ;iiother;  not  only  to  save  all  further 
trouble  in  the  matter  of  the  hurdle,  but  to  override  me  alto- 
gether upon  the  difficult  question  of  damming.  And  I  knew 
quite  well  that  John  Fry's  wife  never  came  to  help  at  the 
washing,  without  declaring  that  it  was  a  sin,  for  a  well-looking 
woman  like  mother,  with  plenty  to  live  on,  and  only  three 
children,  to  keep  all  the  farmers  for  miles  around  so  unset- 
tled in  their  minds  about  her.  Mother  used  to  answer,  "  Oh 
fie,  Mistress  Fry!  be  good  enough  to  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness." But  we  always  saw  that  she  smoothed  her  apron,  and 
did  her  hair  up  afterwards,  and  that  Mistress  Fry  went  home 
at  night  with  a  cold  pig's  foot,  or  a  bowl  of  dripping. 

Therefore,  on  that  very  night,  as  I  could  not  well  speak  to 
mother  about  it,  without  seeming  undutiful,  after  lighting  the 
three  young  ladies  —  for  so  in  sooth  they  called  themselves  — 
all  the  way  home  with  our  stable  lanthorn,  I  begged  good 
leave  of  Farmer  Nicholas  (who  had  hung  some  way  behind  us) 
to  say  a  word  in  private  to  him,  before  he  entered  his  own 
house. 

"  Wi'  all  the  plaisure  in  laife,  my  zon,"  he  answered,  very 
graciously,  thinking  perhaps  that  I  was  prepared  to  speak 
concerning  Sally. 


A   ROYAL   INVITATION,  149 

"]N"ow,  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe,"  T  said,  scarce  knowing 
how  to  begin  it,  "you  must  promise  not  to  be  vexed  with  me, 
for  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you." 

"  Vaxed  wi'  tliee!  Noo,  noo,  my  lad.  I  'ave  a  knowed  thee 
too  long  for  that.  And  thy  veyther  were  my  best  friend, 
avore  thee.  Never  wronged  his  neighbors,  never  spak  an 
unkind  Avord,  never  had  no  maneness  in  him.  Tuk  a  vancy 
to  a  nice  young  'ooman,  and  never  kep  her  in  doubt  about  it, 
though  there  wadn't  mooch  to  zettle  on  her.  Spak  his  maind 
laike  a  man,  he  did;  and  right  happy  he  were  wi'  her.  Ah, 
well  a  day!  Ah,  God  knoweth  best.  I  never  shall  zee  his 
laike  again.  And  he  were  the  best  judge  of  a  dung-heap, 
anywhere  in  this  county." 

"Well,  Master  Snowe,"  I  answered  him,  "it  is  very  hand- 
some of  you  to  say  so.  And  now  I  am  going  to  be  like  my 
father,  I  am  going  to  speak  my  mind." 

"Kaight  there,  lad;  raight  enough,  I  reckon.  Us  has  had 
enough  of  pralimbinary." 

"  Then  what  I  want  to  say  is  this  —  I  won't  have  any  one 
courting  my  mother." 

"  Coortin'  of  thy  mother,  lad  ?  "  cried  Farmer  Snowe,  with 
as  much  amazement  as  if  the  thing  were  impossible ;  "  why, 
who  ever  hath  been  dooin'  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  courting  of  my  mother,  sir.  And  you  know  best  who 
comes  doing  it." 

"  Wull,  wull !  What  will  boys  be  up  to  next  ?  Zhud  a' 
thought  herzelf  wor  the  proper  judge.  No  thank  'ee,  lad,  no 
need  of  thy  light.  Know  the  wai  to  my  own  door,  at  laste ; 
and  have  a  raight  to  goo  there."  And  he  shut  me  out,  without 
so  much  as  offering  me  a  drink  of  cider. 

The  next  afternoon,  when  work  was  over,  I  had  seen  to  the 
horses,  for  now  it  was  foolish  to  trust  John  Fry,  because  he 
had  so  many  children,  and  his  wife  had  taken  to  scolding;  and 
just  as  I  was  saying  to  myself,  that  in  five  days  more  my 
month  would  be  clone,  and  myself  free  to  seek  Lorna,  a  man 
came  riding  up  from  the  ford  where  the  road  goes  through  the 
Lynn  stream.  As  soon  as  I  saw  that  it  was  not  Tom  Faggus, 
I  went  no  further  to  meet  him,  counting  that  it  must  be  some 
traveller  bound  for  Brendon  or  Cheriton,  and  likely  enough 
he  would  come  and  beg  for  a  draught  of  milk  or  cider;  and 
then  on  again,  after  asking  the  way. 

But  instead  of  that,  he  stopped  at  our  gate,  and  stood  up 
from  his  saddle,  and  holloed,  as  if  he  were  somebody;  and  all 
the  time  he  was  flourishing-  a  white  thing  in  the  air,  like  the 


150  LOBNA  BOONE. 

bands  our  parson  wearetli.  So  I  crossed  the  court-yard  to 
speak  with  him. 

"Service  of  the  King!"  he  saith;  "service  of  our  lord  the 
King!  Come  hither,  thou  great  yokel,  at  risk  of  fine  and 
imprisonment." 

Although  not  pleased  with  this,  I  went  to  him,  as  became 
a  loyal  man;  quite  at  my  leisure,  however,  for  there  is  no  man 
born  who  can  hurry  me,  though  I  hasten  for  any  woman. 

"Plover  Barrows  farm!"  said  he;  "God  only  knows  how 
tired  I  be.  Is  there  anywhere  in  this  cursed  county  a  cursed 
place  called  'Plover  Barrows  farm  '?  For  last  twenty  mile  at 
least  they  told  me,  'twere  only  half-a-mile  further,  or  only 
just  round  corner.  Now  tell  me  that,  and  I  fain  would  thwack 
thee,  if  thou  wert  not  thrice  my  size." 

"Sir,"  I  replied,  "you  shall  not  have  the  trouble.  This  is 
Plover's  Barrows  farm,  and  you  are  kindly  welcome.  Sheep's 
kidneys  is  for  supper,  and  the  ale  got  bright  from  the  tap- 
ping. But  why  do  you  think  ill  of  us?  We  like  not  to  be 
cursed  so." 

"Nay,  I  think  no  ill,"  he  said;  "sheep's  kidneys  is  good, 
uncommon  good,  if  they  do  them  without  burning.  But  I  be 
so  galled  in  the  saddle  ten  days,  and  never  a  comely  meal 
of  it.  And  when  they  hear  'King's  service'  cried,  they  give 
me  the  worst  of  everything.  All  the  way  down  from  London, 
I  had  a  rogue  of  a  fellow  in  front  of  me,  eating  the  fat  of  the 
land  before  me,  and  every  one  bowing  down  to  him.  He  could 
go  three  miles  to  my  one,  though  he  never  changed  his  horse. 
He  might  have  robbed  me  at  any  minute,  if  I  had  been  w^orth 
the  trouble.  A  red  mare  he  rideth,  strong  in  the  loins,  and 
pointed  quite  small  in  the  head.  I  shall  live  to  see  him 
hanged  yet." 

All  this  time  he  was  riding  across  the  straw  of  our  court- 
yard, getting  his  weary  legs  out  of  the  leathers,  and  almost 
afraid  to  stand  yet.  A  coarse-grained,  hafd-faced  man  he  was, 
some  forty  years  of  age  or  so,  and  of  middle  height  and  stat- 
ure. He  was  dressed  in  a  dark  brown  riding  suit,  none  the 
better  for  Exmoor  mud,  but  fitting  him  very  differently  from 
the  fashion  of  our  tailors.  Across  the  holsters  lay  his  cloak, 
made  of  some  red  skin,  and  shining  from  the  sweating  of  the 
horse.  As  I  looked  down  on  his  stiff  bright  head-piece,  small 
quick  eyes,  and  black  needly  beard,  he  seemed  to  despise  me 
(too  much,  as  I  thought)  for  a  mere  ignoramus  and  country 
bumpkin. 

"Annie,  have  down  the  cut  ham,"  I  shouted;  for  my  sister 


A   BOYAL   INVITATION.  151 

was  come  to  the  door  by  chance,  or  because  of  the  sound  of  a 
horse  in  the  road,  "and  cut  a  few  rashers  of  hung  deer's  meat. 
There  is  a  gentleman  come  to  sup,  Annie.  And  fetch  the 
hops  out  of  the  tap  with  a  skewer,  that  it  may  run  more 
sparkling. " 

"I  wish  I  may  go  to  a  place  never  meant  for  me,"  said  my 
new  friend,  now  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  sleeve  of  his  brown 
riding  coat,  "  if  ever  I  fell  among  such  good  folk.  You  are 
the  right  sort,  and  no  error  therein.  All  this  shall  go  in 
your  favor  greatly,  when  I  make  deposition.  At  least,  I  mean, 
if  it  be  as  good  in  the  eating  as  in  the  hearing.  'Tis  a  supper 
quite  lit  for  Tom  Faggus  himself,  the  man  who  hath  stolen 
my  victuals  so.  And  that  hung  deer's  meat,  now  is  it  of  the 
red  deer  running  wild  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"To  be  sure  it  is,  sir,"  I  answered;  "where  should  we  get 
any  other  ?  " 

"Eight,  right,  you  are  right,  my  son.  I  have  heard  that 
the  flavor  is  marvellous.  Some  of  them  came  and  scared  me 
so,  in  the  fog  of  the  morning,  that  I  hungered  for  them  ever 
since.  Ha,  ha,  I  saw  their  haunches.  But  the  young  lady 
will  not  forget  —  art  sure  she  will  not  forget  it  ?  " 

"You  may  trust  her  to  forget  nothing,  sir,  that  may  tempt 
a  guest  to  his  comfort." 

"In  faith,  then,  I  will  leave  my  horse  in  your  hands,  and 
be  off  for  it.  Half  the  pleasure  of  the  mouth  is  in  the  nose 
beforehand.  But  stay,  almost  I  forgot  my  business,  in  the 
hurry  which  thy  tongue  hath  spread  through  my  lately 
despairing  belly.  Hungry  I  am,  and  sore  of  body,  from  my 
heels  right  upward,  and  sorest  in  front  of  my  doublet;  yet 
may  I  not  rest,  nor  bite  barley-bread,  until  I  have  seen  and 
touched  John  Ridd.  God  grant  that  he  be  not  far  away;  I 
must  eat  my  saddle,  if  it  be  so." 

"Have  no  fear,  good  sir,"  I  answered;  "you  have  seen  and 
touched  John  Eidd.  I  am  he,  and  not  one  likely  to  go  be- 
neath a  bushel." 

"  It  would  take  a  large  bushel  to  hold  thee,  John  Ridd.  In 
the  name  of  the  King,  His  Majesty,  Charles  the  Second,  these 
presents !  " 

He  touched  me  with  the  white  thing  which  I  had  first  seen 
him  waving,  and  which  T  now  beheld  to  be  sheepskin,  such  as 
they  call  parchment.  It  was  tied  across  with  cord,  and 
fastened  down  in  every  corner  with  unsightly  dabs  of  wax. 
By  order  of  the  messenger  (for  I  was  over-frightened  now  to 
think  of  doing  anything),  I  broke  enough  of  seals  to  keep  an 


152  LORN  A   DOONE. 

Easter  ghost  from  rising;  and  there  I  saw  my  name  in  large; 
God  grant  such  another  shock  may  never  befall  me  in  my  old 
age. 

"  Eead,  my  son ;  read,  thou  great  fool,  if  indeed  thou  canst 
read,"  said  the  officer  to  encourage  me;  "there  is  nothing  to 
kill  thee,  boy,  and  my  supper  will  be  spoiling.  Stare  not  at 
me  so,  thou  fool ;  thou  art  big  enough  to  eat  me ;  read,  read, 
read." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  I  asked :  though 
why  I  asked  him  I  know  not,  except  from  fear  of  witchcraft. 

"Jeremy  Stickles  is  my  name,  lad,  nothing  more  than  a 
poor  apparitor  of  the  worshipful  Court  of  King's  Bench. 
And  at  this  moment  a  starving  one,  and  no  supper  for  me, 
unless  thou  wilt  read." 

Being  compelled  in  this  way,  I  read  pretty  nigh  as  follows ; 
not  that  I  give  the  whole  of  it,  but  only  the  gist  and  the 
emphasis:  — 

"To  our  good  subject,  John  Eidd,  &c."  —  describing  me 
ever  so  much  better  than  I  knew  myself  —  "  by  these  presents, 
greeting.  These  are  to  require  thee,  in  the  name  of  our  lord 
the  King,  to  appear  in  person  before  the  Eight  Worshipful 
the  Justices  of  His  Majesty's  Bench  at  Westminster,  laying 
aside  all  thine  own  business,  and  there  to  deliver  such  evi- 
dence as  is  within  thy  cognizance,  touching  certain  matters 
whereby  the  peace  of  our  said  lord  the  King,  and  the  well- 
being  of  this  realm,  is,  are,  or  otherwise  may  be  impeached, 
impugned,  imperilled,  or  otherwise  detrimented.  As  witness 
these  presents."  And  then  there  were  four  seals,  and  then  a 
signature  I  could  not  make  out,  only  that  it  began  with  a  J, 
and  ended  with  some  other  writing,  done  almost  in  a  circle. 
Underneath  was  added  in  a  different  handwriting,  "Charges 
will  be  borne.     The  matter  is  full  urgent." 

The  messenger  watched  me,  while  I  read  so  much  as  I  could 
read  of  it;  and  he  seemed  well-pleased  with  my  surprise,  be- 
cause he  had  expected  it.  Then,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do, 
I  looked  again  at  the  cover,  and  on  the  top  of  it  I  saw,  "  Eide, 
Eide,  Eide!  On  His  Gracious  Majesty's  business;  spur  and 
spare  not." 

It  may  be  supposed  by  all  who  know  me,  that  I  was  taken 
hereupon  with  such  a  giddiness  in  my  head,  and  noisiness  in 
my  ears,  that  I  was  forced  to  hold  by  the  crook  driven  in  below 
the  thatch  for  holding  of  the  hay-rakes.  There  was  scarcely 
any  sense  left  in  me,  only  that  the  thing  was  come  by  power 
of  Mother  Melldrum,  because  I  despised  her  warning,  and  had 


A   ROYAL   INVITATION.  163 

again  sought  Lorna.  But  the  officer  was  grieved  for  me,  and 
the  danger  to  his  supper. 

"My  son,  be  not  afraid,"  he  said;  "we  are  not  going  to 
skin  thee.  Only  thou  tell  all  the  truth,  and  it  shall  be  —  but 
never  mind,  I  will  tell  thee  all  about  it,  and  how  to  come  out 
harmless,  if  T  find  thy  victuals  good,  and  no  delay  in  serving 
them." 

"We  do  our  best,  sir,  without  bargain,"  said  I,  "to  please 
our  visitors." 

But  when  my  mother  saw  that  parchment  (for  we  could  not 
keep  it  from  her)  she  fell  away  into  her  favorite  bed  of  stock 
gilly -flowers,  which  she  had  been  tending;  and  when  we 
brought  her  round  again,  did  nothing  but  exclaim  against  the 
wickedness  of  the  age  and  people.  "It  was  useless  to  tell 
her;  she  knew  what  it  was,  and  so  should  all  the  parish  know. 
The  King  had  heard  what  her  son  was,  how  sober,  and  quiet, 
and  diligent,  and  the  strongest  young  man  in  England;  and 
being  himself  such  a  reprobate  —  God  forgive  her  for  saying 
so  —  he  could  never  rest  till  he  got  poor  Johnny,  and  made 
him  as  dissolute  as  himself.  And  if  he  did  that "  —  here 
mother  went  off  into  a  fit  of  crying ;  and  Annie  minded  her 
face,  while  Lizzie  saw  that  her  gown  was  in  comely  order. 

But  the  character  of  the  King  improved,  when  Master  Jer- 
emy Stickles  (being  really  moved  by  the  look  of  it,  and  no  bad 
man  after  all)  laid  it  clearly  before  my  mother,  that  the  King 
on  his  throne  was  unhappy,  until  he  had  seen  John  Eidd. 
That  the  fame  of  John  had  gone  so  far,  and  his  size,  and  all 
his  virtues  —  that  verily  by  the  God  who  made  him,  the  King 
was  overcome  with  it. 

■  Then  mother  lay  back  in  her  garden  chair,  and  smiled  upon 
the  whole  of  us,  and  most  of  all  on  Jeremy;  looking  only  shyly 
on  me,  and  speaking  through  some  break  of  tears.  "His 
Majesty  shall  have  my  John;  His  Majesty  is  very  good:  but 
only  for  a  fortnight.  I  want  no  titles  for  him.  Johnny  is 
enough  for  me;  and  Master  John  for  the  working  men." 

Now  though  my  mother  was  so  willing  that  I  should  go  to 
London,  expecting  great  promotion  and  high  glory  for  me,  I 
myself  was  deeply  gone  into  the  pit  of  sorrow.  For  what  would 
Lorna  think  of  me?  Here  was  the  long  month  just  expired, 
after  worlds  of  waiting;  there  would  be  her  lovely  self,  peep- 
ing softly  down  the  glen,  and  fearing  to  encourage  me;  yet 
there  would  be  nobody  else,  and  what  an  insult  to  her!  Dwell- 
ing upon  this,  and  seeing  no  cliance  of  escape  from  it,  I  could 
not  find  one  wink  of  sleep ;  though  Jeremy  Stickles  (who  slept 


154  LORNA   BOONE. 

close  by)  snored  loud  enough  to  spare  me  some.  For  I  felt 
myself  to  be,  as  it  were,  in  a  place  of  some  importance ;  in  a 
situation  of  trust,  I  may  say;  and  bound  not  to  depart  from 
it.  For  who  could  tell  what  the  King  might  have  to  say  to  me 
about  the  Doones  —  and  I  felt  that  they  were  at  the  bottom  of 
this  strange  appearance  —  or  what  His  Majesty  might  think,  if 
after  receiving  a  message  from  him  (trusty  under  so  many 
seals)  I  were  to  violate  his  faith  in  me  as  a  churchwarden's 
son,  and  falsely  spread  his  words  abroad? 

Perhaps  I  was  not  wise  in  building  such  a  wall  of  scruples. 
Nevertheless,  all  that  Avas  there,  and  weighed  upon  me  heavily. 
And  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to  this,  that  even  Lorna  must 
not  know  the  reason  of  my  going,  neither  anything  about  it; 
but  that  she  might  know  I  was  gone  a  long  way  from  home, 
and  perhaps  be  sorry  for  it.  Xow  how  was  I  to  let  her  know 
even  that  much  of  the  matter,  without  breaking  compact? 

Puzzling  on  this,  I  fell  asleep,  after  the  proper  time  to  get 
up ;  nor  was  I  to  be  seen  at  breakfast  time ;  and  mother  (being 
quite  strange  to  that)  was  very  uneasy  about  it.  But  Master 
Stickles  assured  her  that  the  King's  writ  often  had  that  effect, 
and  the  symptom  was  a  good  one. 

"Now,  Master  Stickles,  when  must  we  start?"  I  asked  liini, 
as  he  lounged  in  the  yard,  gazing  at  our  turkey  poults  picking 
and  running  in  the  sun,  to  the  tune  of  their  father's  gobble. 

"  Your  horse  was  greatly  foundered,  sir,  and  is  hardly  tit  for 
the  road  to-day;  and  Smiler  was  sledding  yesterday  all  up  the 
higher  Cleve;  and  none  of  the  rest  can  carry  me." 

"In  a  few  more  years,"  replied  the  King's  officer,  contem- 
plating me  with  much  satisfaction,  "  'twill  be  a  cruelty  to  any 
horse  to  put  thee  on  his  back,  John." 

Master  Stickles,  by  this  time  was  quite  familiar  with  us, 
calling  me  "Jack,"  and  Eliza  "Lizzie,"  and  what  I  liked  the 
least  of  all,  our  pretty  Annie  "Nancy." 

"That  will  be  as  God  pleases,  sir,"  I  answered  him,  rather 
sharply;  "and  the  horse  that  suffers  will  not  be  thine.  But 
I  wish  to  know,  when  we  must  start  upon  our  long  travel  to 
London  town.  I  perceive  that  the  matter  is  of  great  despatch 
and  urgency." 

"To  be  sure,  so  it  is,  my  son.  But  I  see  a  yearling  turkey 
there,  him  I  mean  with  the  hop  in  his  walk,  who  (if  I  know 
aught  of  fowls)  would  roast  well  to-morrow.  Thy  mother  must 
have  preparation:  it  is  no  more  than  reasonable.  Now,  have 
that  turkey  killed  to-night  (for  his  fatness  makes  me  long  for 
him),  and  we  will  have  him  for  dinner  to-morrow,  with,  per- 


A   ROYAL   INVUATIOy.  155 

haps,  one  of  his  brethren;  and  a  few  more  coUops  of  red  deer's 
flesh  for  supper ;  and  then  on  the  Friday  morning,  with  the 
grace  of  God,  we  will  set  our  faces  to  the  road,  upon  His 
Majesty's  business." 

"Xay,  but  good  sir,"  I  asked  with  some  trembling,  so  eager 
was  I  to  see  Lorna;  "if  His  Majesty's  business  will  keep  till 
Friday,  may  it  not  keep  until  Monday?  We  have  a  litter  of 
sucking-pigs,  excellently  choice  and  white,  six  weeks  old,  come 
Friday.  There  be  too  many  for  the  sow,  and  one  of  tliem 
needeth  roasting.  Think  you  not,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  leave 
the  women  to  carve  it?'' 

"My  son  Jack,"  replied  Master  Stickles,  ''never  was  I  in 
such  quarters  yet :  and  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  so  unthank- 
ful to  Him  as  to  hurry  away.  And  now  I  think  on  it,  Friday 
is  not  a  day  upon  which  pious  people  love  to  commence  an 
enterprise.  1  will  choose  the  young  pig  to-morrow  at  noon,  at 
which  time  they  are  wont  to  gambol ;  and  we  will  celebrate 
his  birthday  by  carving  him  on  Friday.  After  that  we  will 
gird  our  loins,  and  set  forth  early  on  Saturday." 

Now  this  was  little  better  to  me  than  if  we  had  set  forth  at 
once,  Sunday  being  the  very  first  day,  upon  which  it  would  be 
honorable  for  me  to  enter  Glen  Doone.  But  though  I  tried 
every  possible  means  with  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  offering 
him  the  choice  for  dinner  of  every  beast  that  was  on  the  farm, 
he  durst  not  put  off  our  departure  later  than  the  Saturda3^ 
And  nothing  else  but  love  of  us,  and  of  our  hospitality,  would 
have  so  persuaded  him  to  remain  with  us  till  then.  Therefore 
now  my  only  chance  of  seeing  Lorna,  before  I  went,  lay  in 
watching  from  the  cliff  and  espying  her,  or  a  signal  from  her. 

This,  however,  I  did  in  vain,  until  my  eyes  were  weary,  and 
often  would  delude  themselves  with  hope  of  what  they  ached 
for.  But  thougli  I  lay  hidden  behind  the  trees  upon  the  crest 
of  the  stony  fall,  and  waited  so  quiet  that  the  rabbits  and 
squirrels  played  around  me,  and  even  the  keen-eyed  weasel 
took  me  for  a  trunk  of  wood  —  it  was  all  as  one ;  no  cast  of 
color  changed  the  white  stone,  whose  whiteness  now  was  hate- 
ful to  me;  nor  did  wreath  or  skirt  of  maiden  break  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  vale. 


156  LOENA   DOONE. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

A   SAFE    PASS    FOR    KINg's    MESSENGEE. 

A  JOURNEY  to  London  seemed  to  us,  in  those  bygone  days,  as 
hazardous  and  dark  an  adventure  as  could  be  forced  on  any 
man.  I  mean,  of  course,  a  poor  man ;  for  to  a  great  nobleman 
with  ever  so  many  outriders,  attendants,  and  retainers,  the  risk 
was  not  so  great,  unless  the  highwaymen  knew  of  their  coming 
beforehand,  and  so  combined  against  them.  To  a  poor  man, 
however,  the  risk  was  not  so  much  from  those  gentlemen  of 
the  road,  as  from  the  more  ignoble  footpads,  and  the  land- 
lords of  the  lesser  hostels,  and  the  locse  unguarded  soldiers, 
over  and  above  the  pitfalls  and  the  quagmires  of  the  way;  so 
that  it  was  hard  to  settle,  at  the  first  outgoing,  whether  a  man 
were  wise  to  pray  more  for  his  neck  or  for  his  head. 

But  now-a-days  it  is  very  different.  Kot  that  highwaymen 
are  scarce,  in  this  the  reign  of  our  good  Queen  Anne;  for  in 
truth  they  thrive  as  well  as  ever,  albeit  they  deserve  it  not,  be- 
ing less  upright  and  courteous  —  but  that  the  roads  are  much 
improved,  and  the  growing  use  of  stage-waggons  (some  of 
which  will  travel  as  much  as  forty  miles  in  a  summer  day)  has 
turned  our  ancient  ideas  of  distance  almost  upside  down;  and 
I  doubt  whether  God  be  pleased  with  our  flying  so  fast  away 
from  Him.  However,  that  is  not  my  business;  nor  does  it  lie 
in  my  mouth  to  speak  very  strongly  upon  the  subject,  seeing 
how  much  I  myself  have  done  towards  making  of  roads  upon 
Exmoor. 

To  return  to  my  story  (and,  in  truth,  I  lose  that  road  too 
often),  it  would  have  taken  ten  King's  messengers  to  get  me 
away  from  Plover's  Barrows,  without  one  good-bye  to  Lorna, 
but  for  my  sense  of  the  trust  and  reliance  which  His  Majesty 
had  reposed  in  me.  And  now  I  felt  most  bitterly,  how  the 
very  arrangements  which  seemed  so  wise,  and  indeed  ingenious, 
may  by  the  force  of  events  become  our  most  fatal  obstacles. 
For  lo !  I  was  blocked  entirely  from  going  to  see  Lorna;  whereas 
we  should  have  fixed  it  so  that  I  as  well  might  have  the  power 
of  signalling  my  necessity. 

It  was  too  late  now  to  think  of  that;  and  so  I  made  up  my 
mind  at  last  to  keep  my  honor  on  both  sides,  both  to  the  King 
and  to  the  maiden,  although  I  might  lose  everything  except  a 
heavy  heart  for  it.     And  indeed,  more  hearts  than  mine  were 


A    SAFE  PASS  FOR    KING'S  MESSENGER.  157 

heavy;  for  when  it  came  to  the  tug  of  parting,  my  mother  was 
like,  and  so  was  Annie,  to  break  down  altogether.  But  I  bade 
them  be  of  good  cheer,  and  smiled  in  the  briskest  manner  upon 
them,  and  said  that  I  should  be  b_ack  next  week  as  one  of  His 
Majesty's  greatest  captains,  and  told  them  not  to  fear  me 
then.  Upon  Avhich  they  smiled  at  the  idea  of  ever  being  afraid 
of  me,  whatever  dress  I  might  have  on ;  and  so  I  kissed  my 
hand  once  more,  and  rode  away  very  bravely.  But  bless  your 
heart,  I  could  no  more  have  done  so  than  flown  all  the  way  to 
London,  if  Jeremy  Stickles  had  not  been  there. 

And  not  to  take  too  much  credit  to  myself  in  this  matter,  I 
must  confess  that  when  we  were  come  to  the  turn  of  the  road, 
where  the  moor  begins,  and  whence  you  see  the  last  of  the  3^ard, 
and  the  ricks  and  the  poultry  round  them,  and  can  (by  know- 
ing the  place)  obtain  a  glance  of  the  kitchen  window  under  the 
walnut-tree,  it  went  so  hard  with  me  just  here,  that  I  even 
made  pretence  of  a  stone  in  ancient  Smiler's  shoe,  to  dismount, 
and  to  bend  my  head  awhile.  Then,  knowing  that  those  I  had 
left  behind  would  be  watching  to  see  the  last  of  me,  and  might 
have  false  hopes  of  my  coming  back,  I  mounted  again  with  all 
possible  courage,  and  rode  after  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Jeremy,  seeing  how  much  I  was  down,  did  his  best  to  keep 
me  up  with  jokes,  and  tales,  and  light  discourse,  until,  before 
we  had  ridden  a  league,  I  began  to  long  to  see  the  things  he 
was  describing.  The  air,  the  weather,  and  the  thoughts  of  going 
to  a  wondrous  place,  as  well  as  the  fine  company  —  at  least 
so  Jeremy  said  it  was  —  of  a  man  who  knew  all  London,  made 
me  feel  that  I  should  be  ungracious  not  to  laugh  a  little.  And 
being  very  simple  then  I  laughed  no  more  a  little,  but  some- 
thing quite  considerable  (though  free  from  consideration)  at 
the  strange  things  Master  Stickles  told  me,  and  his  strange 
way  of  telling  them.  And  so  we  became  very  excellent  friends, 
for  he  was  much  pleased  with  my  laughing. 

Not  wishing  to  thrust  myself  more  forward  than  need  be  in 
this  narrative,  I  have  scarcely  thought  it  becoming  or  right  to 
speak  of  my  own  adornments.  But  now,  what  with  tlie  brave 
clothes  I  had  on,  and  the  better  ones  still  that  were  packed  up 
in  the  bag  behind  the  saddle,  it  is  almost  beyond  me  to  forbear 
saying  that  I  must  have  looked  very  pleasing.  And  many  a 
time  I  wished,  going  along,  that  Lorna  could  only  be  here  and 
there,  watching  behind  a  furze-bush,  looking  at  me,  and  won- 
dering how  much  my  clothes  had  cost.  For  mother  would 
have  no  stint  in  the  matter,  but  had  assembled  at  our  house, 
immediately  upon  knowledge  of  what  was  to  be  about  London, 


158  LORNA   DOONE. 

every  man  known  to  be  a  good  stitcher  upon  our  side  of 
Exmoor.  And  for  three  days  they  had  -worked  their  best, 
without  thrift  of  beer  or  cider,  according  to  the  constitution  of 
each.  The  result,  so  they  all  declared,  was  such  as  to  create 
admiration,  and  defy  competition  in  London.  And  to  me  it 
seemed  that  they  were  quite  right;  though  Jeremy  Stickles 
turned  up  his  nose  and  feigned  to  be  deaf  in  the  business. 

Now  be  that  matter  as  you  please  —  for  the  point  is  not  worth 
arguing  —  certain  it  is  that  my  appearance  was  better  than  it 
had  been  before.  For  being  in  the  best  clothes,  one  tries  to 
look  and  to  act  (so  far  as  may  be)  up  to  the  quality  of  them. 
Not  only  from  the  fear  of  soiling  them,  but  that  they  enlarge 
a  man's  perception  of  his  value.  And  it  strikes  me  that  our 
sins  arise,  partly  from  disdain  of  others,  but  mainly  from  con- 
tempt of  self,  both  working  the  despite  of  God.  But  men  of 
mind  may  not  be  measured  by  such  paltry  rule  as  this. 

By  dinner-time  we  arrived  at  Porlock,  and  dined  with  my 
old  friend.  Master  Pooke,  now  growing  rich  and  portly.  For 
though  we  had  plenty  of  victuals  with  us,  we  were  not  to  begin 
upon  them,  until  all  chance  of  victualling  among  our  friends 
was  left  behind.  And  during  that  first  day  we  had  no  need  to 
meddle  with  our  store  at  all;  for  as  had  been  settled  before 
we  left  home,  we  lay  that  night  at  Dunster,  in  the  house  of  a 
worthy  tanner,  first  cousin  to  my  mother,  who  received  us 
very  cordially,  and  undertook  to  return  old  Smiler  to  his  stable 
at  Plover's  Barrows,  after  one  day's  rest. 

Tlience  we  hired  to  Bridgewater ;  and  from  Bridgewater  on 
to  Bristowe,  breaking  the  journey  between  the  two.  But  al- 
though the  whole  way  was  so  new  to  me,  and  such  a  perpet- 
ual source  of  conflict,  that  the  remembrance  still  abides  with 
me,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  I  must  not  be  so  long  in  tell- 
ing as  it  was  in  travelling,  or  you  will  wish  me  further;  both 
because  Lorna  was  nothing  there,  and  also  because  a  man  in 
our  neighborhood  hath  done  the  whole  of  it  since  my  tim^e,  and 
feigns  to  think  nothing  of  it.  However,  one  thing,  in  common 
justice  to  a  person  who  has  been  traduced,  I  am  bound  to  men- 
tion. And  this  is,  that  being  two  of  us,  and  myself  of  such 
magnitude,  we  never  could  have  made  our  journey  without 
either  tight  or  running,  but  for  the  free  pass  which  dear  Annie, 
by  some  means  (I  know  not  what),  had  procured  from  Master 
Faggus.  And  when  I  let  it  be  known,  by  some  hap,  that  I  was 
the  own  cousin  of  Tom  Faggus,  and  honored  with  his  society, 
there  was  not  a  house  upon  the  road  but  was  proud  to  entertain 
me,  in  spite  of  my  fellow-traveller  bearing  the  red  badge  of  the 
King. 


A    SAFE  PASS  FOB  KING'S  MESSENGER.  159 

"I  will  keep  this  close,  my  son  Jack,"  he  said,  having 
stripped  it  off  with  a  carving-knife ;  "  your  flag  is  the  best  to 
fly.  The  man  who  starved  me  on  the  way  down,  the  same  shall 
feed  me  fat  going  home." 

Therefore  w^e  pursued  our  way,  in  excellent  condition,  hav- 
ing thriven  upon  the  credit  of  that  very  popular  highwayman, 
and  being  surrounded  with  regrets  that  he  had  left  the  profes- 
sion, and  sometimes  begged  to  intercede  that  he  might  help 
the  road  again.  For  all  the  landlords  on  the  road  declared 
that  now  small  ale  was  drunk,  nor  much  of  spirits  called  for; 
because  the  farmers  need  not  prime  to  meet  only  common 
riders,  neither  were  these  worth  the  while  to  get  drunk  with 
afterwards.  Master  Stickles  himself  undertook,  as  an  officer 
of  the  King's  Justices,  to  plead  this  case  with  Squire  Faggus 
(as  everybody  called  him  now),  and  to  induce  him,  for  the 
general  good,  to  return  to  his  proper  ministr3^ 

It  was  a  long  and  weary  journe}',  although  the  roads  are 
wondrous  good  on  the  further  side  of  Bristowe,  and  scarcely 
any  man  need  be  bogged,  if  he  keeps  his  eyes  well  open,  save, 
perhaps,  in  Berkshire.  In  consequence  of  the  pass  we  had,  and 
the  vintners'  knowledge  of  it,  we  only  met  two  public  riders, 
one  of  whom  made  off  straightway  when  he  saw  my  compan- 
ion's pistols  and  the  stout  carbine  I  bore;  and  the  other  came 
to  a  parley  with  us,  and  proved  most  kind  and  affable,  when 
he  knew  himself  in  the  ]n-esence  of  the  cousin  of  Squire  Faggus. 
"God  save  you,  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  lifting  his  hat  politely; 
"  many  and  many  a  happy  day,  I  have  worked  this  road  with 
him.  Such  times  will  never  be  again.  But  commend  me  to 
his  love  and  prayers.  King  my  name  is,  and  King  my  nature. 
Say  that,  and  none  will  harm  you."  And  so  he  made  off  down 
the  hill,  being  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  very  good  horse  he 
was  riding. 

The  night  was  falling  very  thick  by  the  time  we  were  come 
to  Tyburn,  and  here  the  King's  officer  decided  that  it  would  be 
wise  to  halt;  because  the  way  was  unsafe  by  night  across  the 
fields  to  Charing  village.  I  for  my.  part  was  nothing  loth,  and 
preferred  to  see  London  by  daylight. 

And  after  all,  it  was  not  worth  seeing,  but  a  very  hideous 
and  dirty  place,  not  at  all  like  Exmoor.  Some  of  the  shops 
were  very  fine,  and  the  signs  above  them  finer  still,  so  that  I 
■  was  never  weary  of  standing  still  to  look  at  them.  But  in 
doing  this  there  Avas  no  ease ;  for  before  one  could  begin  almost 
to  make  out  the  meaning  of  them,  either  some  of  the  way-farers 
would  bustle,  and  scowl,  and  draw  their  swords,  or  the  owner, 


IBO  LOBNA    DOONE. 

or  his  apprentice  boys,  would  rush  out  and  catch  hold  of  me, 
crying,  "Buy,  buy,  buy!  What  dy'e  lack,  what  dy'e  lack? 
Buy,  buy,  buy !  "  At  first  I  mistook  the  meaning  of  this  —  for 
so  we  pronounce  the  w^ord  "bo}^"  upon  Exmoor, —  and  I  an- 
swered with  some  indignation,  "  Sirrah,  I  am  no  boy  now, 
but  a  man  of  one-and-twenty  years;  and  as  for  lacking,  I 
lack  nought  from  thee,  except  wliat  thou  liast  not  —  good 
manners." 

The  only  things  that  pleased  me  much  were  the  river  Thames, 
and  the  hall  and  church  of  Westminster,  where  there  are  brave 
things  to  be  seen,  and  braver  still  to  think  about.  But  when- 
ever I  wandered  in  the  streets,  what  with  the  noise  the  people 
made,  the  number  of  the  coaches,  the  runniiTg-  of  the  footmen, 
the  swaggering  of  great  courtiers,  and  thrusting  aside  of  every 
body,  many  and  many  a  time  I  longed  to  be  back  among  the 
sheep  again,  for  fear  of  losing  temper.  They  were  welcome 
to  the  wall  for  me,  as  I  took  care  to  tell  them,  for  I  could  stand 
without  the  wall,  which  perhaps  was  more  than  they  could  do. 
I'hough  I  said  this  with  the  best  intention,  meaning  no  dis- 
courtesy, some  of  them  were  vexed  at  it;  and  one  young  lord, 
being  flushed  with  drink,  drew  his  sword  and  made  at  me. 
But  I  struck  it  up  with  my  holly  stick,  so  that  it  flew  on  the 
roof  of  a  house,  then  I  took  him  by  the  belt  Avith  one  hand, 
and  laid  him  in  the  kennel.  This  caused  some  little  disturb- 
ance :  but  none  of  the  rest  saw  tit  to  try  how  the  matter  might 
be  with  them. 

Now  this  being  the  year  of  our  Lord  1683,  more  than  nine 
years  and  a  half  since  the  death  of  my  father,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  this  history,  all  London  was  in  a  great  ferment,  about 
the  dispute  between  the  Court  of  the  King  and  the  City.  The 
King,  or  rather  perhaps  his  party  (for  they  said  that  His 
Majesty  cared  for  little,  except  to  have  plenty  of  money  and 
spend  it),  was  quite  resolved  to  be  supreme  in  the  appointment 
of  the  chief  officers  of  the  corporation.  But  the  citizens  main- 
tained that  (under  their  charter)  this  right  lay  entirel^^  with 
themselves ;  upon  which  a  writ  was  issued  against  them  for 
forfeiture  of  their  charter;  and  the  question  w^as  now  being 
tried  in  the  court  of  His  Majesty's  bench. 

This  seemed  to  occupy  all  the  attention  of  the  judges,  and 
my  case  (which  had  appeared  so  urgent)  was  put  off  from  time 
to  time,  while  the  Court  and  the  City  contended.  And  so  hot. 
was  the  conflict  and  hate  between  them,  that  a  sheriff  had  been 
lined  by  the  king  in  100,000?.,  and  a  former  lord  mayor  had 
even  been  sentenced  to  the  pillory,  because  he  would  not  swear 


A   SAFE  PASS  FOB   KING'S  MESSENGEB.  161 

falsely.  Hence  the  courtiers  and  the  citizens  scarce  could 
meet  in  the  streets  with  patience,  or  without  railing  and 
frequent  blows. 

Now  although  I  heard  so  much  of  this  matter,  for  nothing 
else  was  talked  of,  and  it  seemed  to  me  more  important  even 
than  the  church wardenship  of  Oare,  I  could  not  for  the  life  of 
me  tell  which  side  I  should  take  to.  For  all  my  sense  of  posi- 
tion, and  of  conhdence  reposed  in  me,  and  of  my  father's 
opinions,  lay  heavily  in  one  scale;  while  all  my  reason,  and 
iny  heart,  went  down  plump  against  injustice,  and  seemed 
to  win  the  other  scale.  Even  so  my  fatlier  had  been,  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  civil  war,  when  he  was  less  than  my  age 
now,  and  even  less  skilled  in  politics :  and  my  mother  told  me 
after  this,  when  she  saw  how  1  myself  was  doubting,  and  vexed 
with  myself  for  doing  so,  that  my  father  used  to  thank  God 
often,  that  he  had  not  been  called  upon  to  take  one  side  or 
other,  but  might  remaiu  obscure  and  quiet.  And  yet  he  always 
considered  himself  to  be  a  good  sound  Royalist. 

But  now  as  I  stayed  there,  only  desirous  to  be  heard  and  to 
get  away,  and  scarcely  even  guessing  yet  what  was  wanted  of 
me  (for  even  Jeremy  Stickles  knew  not,  or  pretended  not  to 
know),  things  came  to  a  dreadful  pass,  between  the  King  and 
all  the  people  who  dared  to  have  an  opinion.  For  about  the 
middle  of  June,  the  judges  gave  their  sentence,  that  the  City 
of  London  had  forfeited  its  charter,  and  that  its  franchise 
should  be  taken  into  the  hands  of  the  King.  Scarcely  Avas  this 
judgment  forth,  and  all  men  hotly  talking  of  it,  when  a  far 
worse  thing  befell.  News  of  some  great  conspiracy  was  spread 
at  every  corner,  and  that  a  man  in  the  malting  business  had 
tried  to  take  up  the  brewer's  work,  and  lop  the  King,  and  the 
Duke  of  York.  Every  body  was  shocked  at  this,  for  the  King 
himself  was  not  disliked  so  much  as  his  advisers;  but  every 
body  was  more  than  shocked,  grieved  indeed  to  the  heart  with 
pain,  at  hearing  that  Lord  William  Russell,  and  Mr.  Algernon 
Sidney,  had  been  seized  and  sent  to  the  Tower  of  London,  upon 
a  charge  of  high  treason. 

Having  no  knowledge  of  these  great  men,  nor  of  the  matter 
how  far  it  was  true,  I  had  not  very  much  to  say  about  either 
them  or  it :  but  this  silence  was  not  shared  (although  the  igno- 
rance may  have  been)  l)y  the  hundreds  of  people  around  me. 
Such  a  commotion  was  astir,  such  universal  sense  of  wrong, 
and  stern  resolve  to  right  it,  that  each  man  grasped  his  fellow's 
hand,  and  led  him  into  the  vintner's.  Even  I,  although  at 
that  time  given  to  excess  in  temperance,  and  afraid  of  the  name 

VOL.  I.  —  11 


162  LOBNA  doom:. 

of  cordials,  was  hard  set  (I  do  assure  youj  not  to  be  drunk  at 
intervals,  without  coarse  discourtesy. 

However  that  (as  Betty  Muxworthy  used  to  say,  when  argued 
down,  and  ready  to  take  the  mop  for  it)  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  I  have  nought  to  do  with  great  history ;  and  am  sorry 
for  those  who  have  to  write  it;  because  they  are  sure  to  have 
both  friends  and  enemies  in  it,  and  cannot  act  as  they  would 
towards  them,  without  damage  to  their  own  consciences. 

But  as  great  events  draw  little  ones,  and  the  rattle  of  the 
churn  decides  the  uncertainty  of  the  flies,  so  this  movement  of 
the  town,  and  eloquence,  and  passion  had  more  than  I  guessed 
at  the  time,  to  do  with  my  own  little  fortunes.  For  in  the 
first  place  it  was  fixed  (perhaps  from  downright  contumely, 
because  the  citizens  loved  him  so)  that  Lord  Eussell  should  be 
tried  neither  at  Westminster,  nor  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  but  at  the 
Court  of  Old  Bailey,  within  the  precincts  of  the  city.  This 
kept  me  hanging  on  much  longer ;  because  although  the  good 
nobleman  was  to  be  tried  by  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  yet 
the  officers  of  the  King's  Bench,  to  whom  I  daily  applied  myself, 
were  in  counsel  with  their  fellows,  and  put  me  off  from  day  to 
day. 

Now  I  had  heard  of  the  law's  delays,  which  the  greatest  of 
all  great  poets  (knowing  much  of  the  law  himself,  as  indeed 
of  every  thing)  has  specially  mentioned,  when  not  expected, 
among  the  many  ills  of  life.  But  I  never  thought  at  my  years 
to  have  such  bitter  experience  of  the  evil;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  if  the  lawyers  failed  to  do  their  duty,  they  ought  to  pay 
people  for  waiting  upon  them,  instead  of  making  them  pay  for 
it.  But  here  I  was,  now  in  the  second  month,  living  at  my 
own  charges,  in  the  house  of  a  worthy  fellmonger  at  the  sign 
of  the  Seal  and  Squirrel,  abutting  upon  the  Strand  road,  which 
leads  from  Temple  Bar  to  Charing.  Here  I  did  very  well 
indeed,  having  a  mattrass  of  good  skin-dressings,  and  plenty 
to  eat  every  day  of  my  life,  but  the  butter  was  something  to 
cry  "but"  thrice  at  (according  to  a  conceit  of  our  schooldays), 
and  the  milk  must  have  come  from  cows  driven  to  water. 
However,  these  evils  were  light  compared  with  the  heavy  bill 
sent  up  to  me,  every  Saturday  afternoon;  and  knowing  how 
my  mother  had  pinched  to  send  me  nobly  to  London,  and  had 
told  me  to  spare  for  nothing,  but  live  bravely  with  the  best  of 
them,  the  tears  very  nearly  came  into  my  eyes,  as  I  thought, 
while  I  ate,  of  so  robbing  her. 

At  length,  being  quite  at  the  end  of  my  money,  and  seeing 
no  other  help  for  it,  I  determined  to  listen  to  clerks  no  more, 


A   GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS   TO  BUSINESS.  163 

but  force  my  way  up  to  the  Justices,  and  insist  upon  being 
heard  by  them,  or  discharged  from  my  recognizance.  For  so 
they  had  termed  the  bond  or  deed  which  I  had  been  forced  to 
execute,  in  the  presence  of  a  chief  clerk  or  notary,  the  very 
day  after  I  came  to  London.  And  the  purport  of  it  was,  that 
on  pain  of  a  heavy  fine  or  escheatment,  I  would  hold  myself 
ready  and  present,  to  give  evidence  when  called  upon.  Hav- 
ing delivered  me  up  to  sign  this,  Jeremy  Stickles  was  quit  of 
me,  and  went  upon  other  business ;  not  but  what  he  was  kind 
and  good  to  me,  when  his  time  and  pursuits  allowed  of  it. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

A    GREAT    MAN    ATTENDS    TO    BUSINESS. 

Having  seen  Lord  Russell  murdered  in  the  fields  of  Lincoln's 
Inn,  or  rather  having  gone  to  see  it,  but  turned  away,  with  a 
sickness  and  a  bitter  flood  of  tears  —  for  a  w^hiter  and  a  nobler 
neck  never  fell  before  low  beast  —  I  strode  away  towards  West- 
minster, cured  of  half  my  indignation  at  the  death  of  Charles 
the  First.  Many  people  hurried  past  me,  chiefly  of  the  more 
tender  sort,  revolting  at  the  butchery.  In  their  ghastly  faces, 
as  they  turned  them  back,  lest  the  sight  sliould  be  coming  after 
them,  great  sorrow  was  to  be  seen,  and  horror,  and  pity,  and 
some  anger. 

In  Westminster  Hall  I  found  nobody;  not  even  the  crowd  of 
crawling  varlets,  who  used  to  be  craving  evermore  for  employ- 
ment or  for  payment.  I  knocked  at  three  doors,  one  after 
other,  of  lobbies  going  out  of  it,  where  I  had  formerly  seen  some 
officers  and  people  pressing  in  and  out;  but  for  my  trouble  I 
took  nothing,  except  some  thumps  from  echo.  And  at  last  an 
old  man  told  me,  that  all  the  lawyers  were  gone  to  see  the 
result  of  their  own  works,  in  the  fields  of  Lincoln's  Inn. 

However,  in  a  few  days'  time,  I  had  better  fortune;  for  the 
court  was  sitting  and  full  of  business,  to  clea,r  off  the  arrears 
of  work  before  the  lawyers'  holiday.  As  I  was  waiting  in  the 
hall  for  a  good  occasion,  a  man  with  horsehair  on  his  head,  and 
a  long  blue  bag  in  his  left  hand,  touched  me  gently  on  the  arm, 
and  led  me  into  a  quiet  place.  I  follow^ed  him  very  gladly, 
being  confident  that  he  came  to  me  with  a  message  from  the 
Justitiaries.  But  after  taking  pains  to  be  sure  that  none  could 
overhear  us,  he  turned  on  me  suddenly,  and  asked  — 

"Now,  John,  how  is  your  dear  mother?" 


164  LORN  A   BOONE. 

''Worshipful  sir,"  I  answered  him,  after  recovering  from 
my  surprise  at  his  knowledge  of  our  affairs,  and  kindly  interest 
in  them,  "  it  is  two  months  now  since  I  have  seen  her.  Would 
to  God  that  I  only  knew  how  she  is  faring  now,  and  how  the 
business  of  the  farm  goes !  " 

"Sir,  I  respect  and  admire  you,"  the  old  gentleman  replied, 
with  a  bow  very  low  and  genteel;  "few  young  court-gallants 
of  our  time  are  so  reverent  and  dutiful.  Oh,  how  I  did  love 
my  mother !  "  Here  he  turned  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  in  a  man- 
ner that  made  me  feel  for  him ;  and  yet  with  a  kind  of  wonder. 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  sir,"  I  answered  most  respect- 
fully, not  meaning  to  trespass  on  his  grief,  yet  wondering  at 
his  mother's  age;  for  he  seemed  to  be  at  least  three-score: 
"but  I  am  no  court-gallant,  sir;  I  am  only  a  farmer's  son,  and 
learning  how  to  farm  a  little." 

"Enough,  John;  quite  enough,"  he  cried,  "I  can  read  it  in 
thy  countenance.  Honesty  is  written  there,  and  courage,  and 
simplicity.  But  I  fear  that,  in  this  town  of  London,  thou  art 
apt  to  be  taken  in  by  people  of  no  principle.  Ah  me!  Ah 
me!     The  world  is  bad,  and  I  am  too  old  to  improve  it." 

Then  finding  him  so  good  and  kind,  and  anxious  to  improve 
the  age,  I  told  him  almost  every  thing;  how  much  I  paid  the 
fellmonger,  and  all  the  things  I  had  been  to  see;  and  how  I 
longed  to  get  away,  before  the  corn  was  ripening ;  yet  how  (in 
spite  of  these  desires)  I  felt  myself  bound  to  walk  up  and  down, 
being  under  a  thing  called  "recognizance."  In  short  I  told 
him  every  thing;  except  the  nature  of  my  summons  (which  I 
had  no  right  to  tell),  and  that  I  was  out  of  money. 

My  tale  was  told  in  a  little  archway,  apart  from  other  law- 
yers ;  and  the  other  lawyers  seemed  to  me  to  shift  themselves, 
and  to  look  askew,  like  sheep  through  a  hurdle,  when  the  rest 
are  feeding. 

"Wliat!  Good  God!"  my  lawyer  cried,  smiting  his  breast 
indignantly  with  a  roll  of  something  learned;  "In  what  coun- 
try do  we  live?  Under  what  laws  are  we  governed?  No  case 
before  the  court  whatever;  no  primary  deposition,  so  far  as  we 
are  furnished;  not  even  a  King's  writ  issued  —  and  here  we 
have  a  fine  young  man  dragged  from  his  home  and  adoring- 
mother,  during  the  height  of  agriculture,  at  his  own  cost  and 
charges !  I  have  heard  of  many  grievances ;  but  this  the  very 
worst  of  all.  Nothing  short  of  a  Royal  Commission  could 
be  warranty  for  it.  This  is  not  only  illegal,  sir,  but  most 
gravely  unconstitutional." 

"  I  had  not  told  you,  worthy  sir,"  I  answered  him,  in  a  lower 


i 


A   GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS   TO  BUSINESS.  165 

tone,  "  if  I  could  have  thought  that  your  sense  of  right  would 
be  moved  so  painfully.  But  now  I  must  beg  to  leave  j^ou,  sir, 
—  for  I  see  that  the  door  again  is  open.  I  beg  you,  worship- 
ful sir,  to  accept  " 

Upon  this  he  put  forth  his  hand  and  said,  "  Nay,  nay,  my 
son,  not  two,  not  two :  "  yet  looking  away,  that  he  might  not 
scare  me. 

"To  accept,  kind  sir,  my  very  best  thanks,  and  most  re- 
spectful remembrances."  And  with  that,  I  laid  my  hand  in 
his.  "And  if,  sir,  any  circumstances  of  business  or  of  pleas- 
ure should  bring  you  to  our  part  of  the  world,  I  trust  you  will 
not  forget  that  my  mother  and  myself  (if  ever  I  get  home 
again)  will  do  our  best  to  make  you  comfortable  with  our  poor 
hospitality." 

With  this  I  was  hasting  away  from  him,  but  he  held  my  hand 
and  looked  round  at  me.    And  he  spoke  Avithout  cordiality. 

*•  Young  man,  a  general  invitation  is  no  entry  for  my  fee 
book.  I  have  spent  a  good  hour  of  business-time  in  master- 
ing thy  case,  and  stating  my  opinion  of  it.  And  being  a 
member  of  the  bar,  called  six-and-thirty  years  agone  by  the 
honorable  society  of  the  Inner  Temple,  my  fee  is  at  my  own 
discretion;  albeit  an  honorarium.  For  the  honor  of  the  pro- 
fession, and  my  position  in  it,  I  ought  to  charge  thee  at  least 
five  guineas,  although  I  would  have  accepted  one,  offered  with 
good  will  and  delicacy.  Now  I  will  enter  it  two,  my  son,  and 
half-a-crown  for  my  clerk's  fee." 

Saying  this,  he  drew  forth  from  his  deep,  blue  bag,  a  red 
book  having  clasps  to  it,  and  endorsed  in  gold  letters  "Fee 
Book;"  and  before  I  could  speak  (being  frightened  so)  he  had 
entered  on  a  page  of  it,  "  To  consideration  of  case  as  stated 
by  John  Eidd,  and  advising  thereupon,  two  guineas." 

"But  sir,  good  sir,"  I  stammered-  forth,  not  having  two 
guineas  left  in  the  world,  yet  grieving  to  confess  it,  "  I  knew 
not  that  I  was  to  pay,  learned  sir.  I  never  thought  of  it  in 
that  way." 

"  Wounds  of  God !  In  what  way  thought  you  that  a  lawyer 
listened  to  your  rigmarole  ?  " 

"I  thought  that  you  listened  from  kindness,  sir,  and  com- 
passion of  my  grievous  case,  and  a  sort  of  liking  for  me." 

"  A  lawyer  like  thee,  young  curmudgeon !  A  lawyer  afford 
to  feel  compassion  gratis !  Either  thou  art  a  very  deep  knave, 
or  the  greenest  of  all  greenhorns.  Well,  I  suppose,  I  must  let 
thee  off  for  one  guinea,  and  the  clerk's  fee.  A  bad  business, 
a  shocking  business !  " 


166  LOBNA   BOONE. 

Now,  if  this  man  had  continued  kind  and  soft,  as  when  he 
heard  my  story,  I  would  have  pawned  my  clothes  to  pay  him, 
rather  than  leave  a  debt  behind,  although  contracted  unwit- 
tingly. But  when  he  used  harsh  language  so,  knowing  that  1 
did  not  deserve  it,  I  began  to  doubt  within  myself  whether  he 
deserved  my  money.  Therefore  I  answered  him  with  some 
readiness,  such  as  comes  sometimes  to  me,  although  T  am  so 
slow. 

"  Sir,  I  am  no  curmudgeon :  if  a  young  man  had  called  me 
so,  it  would  not  have  been  well  with  him.  This  money  shall 
be  paid,  if  due ;  albeit  I  had  no  desire  to  incur  the  debt.  You 
have  advised  me  that  the  Court  is  liable  for  my  expenses,  so 
far  as  they  be  reasonable.  If  this  be  a  reasonable  expense, 
come  with  me  now  to  Lord  Justice  Jeffreys,  and  receive  from 
him  the  two  guineas,  or  (it  may  be)  five,  for  the  counsel  you 
have  given  me  to  deny  his  jurisdiction."  With  these  words, 
I  took  his  arm  to  lead  him,  for  the  door  was  open  still. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  boy,  let  me  go.  Worthy  sir,  pray  let 
me  go.  My  wife  is  sick,  and  my  daughter  dying  —  in  the 
name  of  God,  sir,  let  me  go." 

"Nay,  nay,"  I  said,  having  fast  hold  of  him;  "I  cannot  let 
thee  go  unpaid,  sir.     Eight  is  right;  and  thou  shalt  have  it." 

"  Ruin  is  what  I  shall  have,  boy,  if  you  drag  me  before  that 
devil.  He  will  strike  me  from  the  bar  at  once,  and  starve  me, 
and  all  my  family.  Here  lad,  good  lad,  take  these  two 
guineas.  Thou  hast  despoiled  the  spoiler.  Never  again  will 
I  trust  mine  eyes  for  knowledge  of  a  greenhorn." 

He  slipped  two  guineas  into  the  hand  which  I  had  hooked 
through  Ids  elbow,  and  spoke  in  an  urgent  whisper  again,  for 
the  people  came  crowding  around  us  —  "For  God's  sake,  let 
me  go,  boy;  another  moment  will  be  too  late." 

"Learned  sir,"  I  answered  him,  "twice  you  spoke,  unless  I 
err,  of  the  necessity  of  a  clerk's  fee,  as  a  thing  to  be  lamented." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  son.  You  have  a  clerk  as  much 
as  I  have.  There  it  is.  Now  I  pray  thee,  take  to  the  study 
of  the  law.  Possession  is  nine  points  of  it,  which  thou  hast 
of  me.  Self-possession  is  the  tenth,  and  that  thou  hast  more 
than  the  other  nine." 

Being  flattered  by  this,  and  by  the  feeling  of  the  two  guineas 
and  half-crown,  I  dropped  my  hold  upon  Counsellor  Kitch  (for 
he  was  no  less  a  man  than  that),  and  he  was  out  of  sight  in  a 
second  of  time,  wig,  blue  bag,  and  family.  And  before  I  had 
time  to  make  up  my  mind  what  I  should  do  with  his  money 
(for  of  course  I  meant  not  to  keep  it)  the  crier  of  the  Court  (as 


"In    thk  name   of  God,   sir,   let   me    go!"  — Vol.   I.  p.  i66. 


A   GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS   TO  BUSINESS.  167 

they  told  me)  came  out,  and  wanted  to  know  wdio  I  was.  1 
told  him,  as  shortly  as  I  could,  that  my  business  lay  with  His 
Majesty's  bench,  and  was  very  confidential;  upon  which  he 
took  me  inside  with  warning,  and  showed  me  to  an  under- 
clerk,  who  showed  me  to  a  higher  one,  and  the  higher  clerk  to 
the  head  one. 

When  this  gentleman  understood  all  about  my  business 
(which  I  told  liim  without  complaint)  he  frowned  at  me  very 
heavily,  as  if  I  had  done  him  an  injury. 

"John  Kidd,"  he  asked  me  with  a  stern  glance,  "is  it  your 
deliberate  desire  to  be  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice  ?  " 

"  Surely,  sir,  it  has  been  my  desire,  for  the  last  two  months 
and  more." 

"Then,  John,  thou  shalt  be.  But  mind  one  thing,  not  a 
word  of  thy  long  detention,  or  thou  mayest  get  into  trouble." 

"  How,  sir  ?  For  being  detained  against  my  own  wish  ?  "  I 
asked  him;  but  he  turned  away,  as  if  that  matter  were  not 
worth  his  arguing,  as,  indeed,  I  suppose  it  was  not,  and  led 
me  through  a  little  passage  to  a  door  with  a  curtain  across  it. 

"i^ow,  if  my  Lord  cross-question  you,"  the  gentleman  whis- 
pered to  me,  "  answer  him  straight  out  truth  at  once,  for  he 
will  have  it  out  of  thee.  And  mind,  he  loves  not  to  be  con- 
tradicted, neither  can  he  bear  a  hang-dog  look.  Take  little 
heed  of  the  other  two;  but  note  every  word  of  the  middle  one; 
and  never  make  him  speak  twice." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  good  advice,  as  he  moved  the  curtain 
and  thrust  me  in,  but  instead  of  entering  withdrew,  and  left 
me  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it. 

The  chamber  was  not  very  large,  though  lofty  to  my  eyes, 
and  dark,  with  wooden  panels  round  it.  At  the  further  end 
w^ere  some  raised  seats,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  churches,  lined 
with  velvet,  and  having  broad  elbow^s,  and  a  canopy  over  the 
middle  seat.  There  were  only  three  men  sitting  here,  one  in 
the  centre,  and  one  on  each  side;  and  all  three  were  done  up 
wonderfully  with  fur,  and  robes  of  state,  and  curls  of  thick 
gray  horse-hair,  crimped  and  gathered,  and  plaited  down  to 
their  shoulders.  Each  man  had  an  oak  desk  before  him,  set 
at  a  little  distance,  and  spread  with  pens  and  papers.  Instead 
of  writing,  howevei,  they  seemed  to  be  laughing  and  talking, 
or  rather  the  one  in  the  'middle  seemed  to  be  telling  some 
good  story,  which  the  others  received  with  approval.  By 
reason  of  their  great  perukes,  it  was  hard  to  tell  how  old  they 
were;  but  the    one  who  was  speaking    seemed  the  youngest, 


168  LORNA  DOONE. 

although  he  was  the  chief  of  them.  A  thick-set,  burly,  and 
bulky  man,  with  a  blotchy  broad  face,  and  great  square  jaws, 
and  fierce  eyes  full  of  blazes;  he  was  one  to  be  dreaded  by 
gentle  souls,  and  to  be  abhorred  by  the  noble. 

Between  me  and  the  three  lord  judges,  some  few  lawyers 
were  gathering  up  bags  and  papers  and  pens  and  so  forth, 
from  a  narrow  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room ;  as  if  a  case 
had  been  disposed  of,  and  no  other  were  called  on.  But 
before  I  had  time  to  look  round  twice,  the  stout  fierce  man 
espied  me,  and  shouted  out  with  a  flashing  stare, — 

"  How  now,  countryman,  who  art  thou  ?  " 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered  him,  loudly,  "I 
am  John  Eidd,  of  Oare  parish,  in  the  county  of  Somerset, 
brought  to  this  London,  some  two  months  back  by  a  special 
messenger,  whose  name  is  Jeremy  Stickles;  and  then  bound 
over  to  be  at  hand  and  ready,  when  called  upon  to  give  evi- 
dence, in  a  matter  unknown  to  me,  but  touching  the  peace  of 
our  lord  the  King,  and  the  well-being  of  his  subjects.  Three 
times  I  have  met  our  lord  the  King,  but  he  hath  said  nothing 
about  his  peace,  and  only  held  it  towards  me;  and  every  day 
save  Sunday,  I  have  walked  up  and  down  the  great  hall  of 
Westminster,  all  the  business  part  of  the  day,  expecting  to 
be  called  upon;  yet  no  one  hath  called  upon  me.  And  now  I 
desire  to  ask  your  worship,  whether  I  may  go  home  again  ?  " 

"Well  done,  John,"  replied  his  lordship,  while  I  was  pant- 
ing with  all  this  S23eech;  "I  will  go  bail  for  thee,  John,  thou 
hast  never  made  such  a  long  speech  before;  and  thou  art  a 
spunky  Briton,  or  thou  couldst  not  have  made  it  now.  I 
remember  the  matter  well;  and  I  myself  will  attend  to  it, 
although  it  arose  before  my  time  "  — lie  was  but  newly  Chief 
Justice  —  "but  T  cannot  take  it  now,  John.  There  is  no  fear 
of  losing  thee,  John,  any  more  than  the  Tower  of  London.  I 
grieve  for  His  Majesty's  exchequer,  after  keeping  thee  two 
months  or  more." 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  I  crave  your  pardon.  My  mother  hath  been 
keeping  me.     Not  a  groat  have  I  received." 

"  Spank,  is  it  so  ?  "  his  lordship  cried,  in  a  voice  that  shook 
the  cobwebs ;  and  the  frown  on  his  brow  shook  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  mine  as  much  as  the  rest  of  them,  —  "  Spank,  is  His 
Majesty  come  to  this,  that  he  starves  his  own  approvers  ?  " 

"My  lord,  my  lord,"  whispered  Mr.  Spank,  the  chief-officer 
of  evidence,  "  the  thing  hath  been  overlooked,  my  lord,  among 
such  grave  matters  of  treason." 

"I  will   overlook  tliy  head,   foul  Spank,   on  a  spike    from 


A    GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS    TO   BUSINESS.  169 

Temple  Bar,  if  ever  I  hear  of  the  like  again.  Vile  varlet, 
what  art  thou  paid  for?  Thou  hast  swindled  the  money  thy- 
self, foul  Spank;  I  know  thee,  though  thou  art  new  to  me. 
Bitter  is  the  day  for  thee  that  ever  I  came  across  thee. 
Answer  me  not  —  one  word  more,  and  I  will  have  thee  on  a 
hurdle."  And  he  swung  himself  to  and  fro,  on  his  bench, 
with  both  hands  on  his  knees;  and  every  man  waited  to  let  it 
pass,  knowing  better  than  to  speak  to  him. 

"John  Eidd,"  said  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  at  last,  recover- 
ing a  sort  of  dignity,  yet  daring  Spank  from  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  to  do  so  much  as  look  at  him,  "  thou  hast  been  shame- 
fully used,  John  Ridd.  Answer  me  not,  boy;  not  a  word;  but 
go  to  Master  Spank,  and  let  me  know  how  he  behaves  to 
thee;"  here  he  made  a  glance  at  Spank,  which  was  worth  at 
least  ten  pounds  to  me;  "be  thou  here  again  to-morrow;  and 
before  any  other  case  is  taken,  I  will  see  justice  done  to  thee. 
Now  be  off,  boy;  thy  name  is  Eidd,  and  we  are  well  rid  of 
thee." 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  go,  after  all  this  tempest ;  as  you  may 
well  suppose.  For  if  ever  I  saw  a  man's  eyes  become  two 
holes  for  the  devil  to  glare  from,  I  saw  it  that  day;  and  the 
eyes  were  those  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  Jeffreys. 

Mr.  Spank  was  in  the  lobby  before  me,  and  before  I  had 
recovered  myself  —  for  I  was  vexed  with  my  own  terror  —  he 
came  up  sidling  and  fawning  to  me,  with  a  heavy  bag  of  yellow 
leather. 

"  Good  Master  Eidd,  take  it  all,  take  it  all ;  and  say  a  good 
word  for  me  to  his  lordship.  He  hath  taken  a  strange  fancy 
to  thee;  and  thou  must  make  the  most  of  it.  We  never  saw 
man  meet  him  eye  to  eye  so,  and  yet  not  contradict  him ;  and 
that  is  just  what  he  loveth.  Abide  in  London,  Master  Eidd, 
and  he  will  make  thy  fortune.  His  joke  upon  thy  name  proves 
that.  And  I  pray  you  remember.  Master  Eidd,  that  the 
Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family." 

But  I  would  not  take  the  bag  from  him,  regarding  it  as  a 
sort  of  bribe  to  pay  me  such  a  lump  of  money,  without  so  much 
as  asking  how  great  had  been  my  expenses.  Therefore  I  only 
told  him  that  if  he  would  kindly  keep  the  cash  for  me  until 
the  morrow,  I  would  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  in  countin.u^ 
(which  always  is  sore  work  with  me)  how  much  it  had  stood 
me  in  board  and  lodging,  since  Master  Stickles  had  rendered 
me  up;  for  until  that  time  he  had  borne  my  expenses.  Li  the 
morning  I  would  give  Mr.  Spank  a  memorandum  duly  signed, 
and  attested  bv  my  landlord,  including  the  breakfast  of  that 


170  LORN  A   DOONE. 

day,  and  in  exchange  for  this  I  would  take  the  exact  amount 
from  the  yellow  bag,  and  be  very  thankful  for  it. 

"If  that  is  thy  way  of  using  opportunit}^,"  said  Spank,  look- 
ing at  me  with  some  contempt,  "thou  wilt  never  thrive  in 
these  times,  my  lad.  Even  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  can  be 
little  help  to  thee ;  unless  thou  knowest  better  than  that  how 
to  help  thyself." 

It  mattered  not  to  me.  The  word  "approver  "  stuck  in  my 
gorge,  as  used  by  the  Lord  Chief  Justice ;  for  we  looked  upon 
an  approver  as  a  very  low  thing  indeed.  I  Avould  rather  pay 
for  every  breakfast,  and  even  every  dinner,  eaten  by  me  since 
here  I  came,  than  take  money  as  an  approver.  And  indeed 
I  was  much  disappointed  at  being  taken  in  that  light,  hav- 
ing understood  that  I  was  sent  for  as  a  trusty  subject,  and 
humble  friend  of  His  Majesty. 

In  the  morning,  I  met  Mr.  Spank  waiting  for  me  at  the 
entrance,  and  very  desirous  to  see  me.  I  shoAved  him  my  bill, 
made  out  in  fair  copy,  and  he  laughed  at  it,  and  said,  "  Take 
it  twice  over.  Master  Ridd;  once  for  thine  own  sake,  and 
once  for  His  Majesty's;  as  all  his  loyal  tradesmen  do,  when 
they  can  get  any.  His  Majesty  knows  and  is  proud  of  it,  for 
it  shows  their  love  of  his  countenance;  and  he  says,  ^his  dat 
qui  cito  dat, '  then  how  can  I  grumble  at  giving  twice,  when  I 
give  so  slowly  ?  " 

"Nay,  I  will  take  it  but  once,"  I  said;  "if  His  Majesty 
loves  to  be  robbed,  he  need  not  lack  of  his  desire,  while  the 
Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family." 

The  clerk  smiled  cheerfully  at  this,  being  proud  of  his  chil- 
dren's ability;  and  then  having  paid  my  account,  he  whis- 
pered,— 

"He  is  all  alone  this  morning,  John,  and  in  rare  good 
humor.  He  hath  been  promised  the  handling  of  poor  Master 
Algernon  Sidney,  and  he  says  he  will  soon  make  republic  of 
him;  for  his  state  shall  shortly  be  headless.  He  is  chuckling 
over  his  joke,  like  a  pig  with  a  nut;  and  that  always  makes 
him  pleasant.  John  Ridd,  my  lord !  "  With  that  he  swung 
up  the  curtain  bravely;  and  according  to  special  orders,  I 
stood,  face  to  face,  and  alone  with  Judge  Jeffreys. 


JOHN   IS  DBAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  171 

CHAPTEK   XXVI. 

JOHN    IS    DRAINED    AXD    CAST    ASIDE. 

His  lordship  was  busy  with  some  letters,  and  did  not  look 
up  for  a  minute  or  two,  although  he  knew  that  I  was  there. 
Meanwhile  I  stood  waiting  to  make  my  bow ;  afraid  to  begin 
upon  him,  and  wondering  at  his  great  bull-head.  Then  he 
closed  his  letters,  well-pleased  with  their  import,  and  fixed 
his  bold  broad  stare  on  me,  as  if  I  were  an  oyster  opened,  and 
he  would  know  how  fresh  I  was. 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  said,  "here  I  am  according 
to  order,  awaiting  your  good  pleasure." 

"  Thou  art  made  to  weight,  John,  more  than  order.  How 
much  dost  thou  tip  the  scales  to?  " 

"  Only  twelvescore  pounds,  my  lord,  when  I  be  in  wrestling 
trim.  And  sure  I  must  have  lost  weight  here,  fretting  so  long 
in  London." 

"  Ha,  ha !  Much  fret  is  there  in  thee !  Hath  His  Majesty 
seen  thee?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  twice  or  even  thrice ;  and  he  made  some  jest 
concerning  m#." 

"A  very  bad  one,  I  doubt  not.  His  humor  is  not  so  dainty 
as  mine,  but  apt  to  be  coarse  and  unmannerly.  Xow  John, 
or  Jack,  by  the  look  of  thee,  thou  art  more  used  to  be  called." 

"  Yes,  your  worship,  when  I  am  with  old  Molly,  and  Betty 
Muxworthy." 

"  Peace,  thou  forward  varlet !  There  is  a  deal  too  much  of 
thee.  We  shall  have  to  try  short  commons  with  thee,  and 
thou  art  a  very  long  common.  Ha,  ha!  where  is  that  rogue 
Spank?  Spank  must  hear  that  by-and-by.  It  is  beyond  thy 
great  thick  head.  Jack." 

"ISTot  so,  my  lord;  I  have  been  at  school,  and  had  very  bad 
jokes  made  upon  me." 

"Ha,  ha!  It  hath  hit  thee  hard.  And  faith,  it  would  be 
hard  to  miss  thee,  even  with  harpoon.  And  thou  lookest  like 
to  blubber,  now.  Capital,  in  faith!  I  have  thee  on  every 
side,  Jack,  and  thy  sides  are  manifold;  many-folded  at  any 
rate.  Thou  shalt  have  double  expenses,  Jack,  for  the  wit 
thou  hast  provoked  in  me." 

"  Heavy  goods  lack  heavy  payment,  is  a  proverb  down  our 
way,  my  lord." 


172  LOBNA   BOONE. 

"  Ah,  I  hurt  thee,  I  hurt  thee,  Jack.  The  harpoon  hath  no 
tickle  for  thee.  Now,  Jack  Whale,  having  hauled  thee  hard, 
we  will  proceed  to  examine  thee."  Here  all  his  manner  was 
changed,  and  he  looked  with  his  heavy  brows  bent  upon  me, 
as  if  he  had  never  laughed  in  his  life,  and  would  allow  none 
else  to  do  so. 

"I  am  ready  to  answer  my  lord,"  I  replied,  "if  he  asks  me 
naught  beyond  my  knowledge,  or  beyond  my  honor." 

"Hadst  better  answer  me  every  thing,  lump.  What  hast 
thou  to  do  with  honor  ?  Now  is  there  in  thy  neighborhood  a 
certain  nest  of  robbers,  miscreants,  and  outlaws,  whom  all 
men  fear  to  handle  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  lord.  At  least  I  believe  some  of  them  be  rob- 
bers; and  all  of  them  are  outlaws." 

"  And  what  is  your  high  sheriff  about,  that  he  doth  not  hang 
them  all  ?  Or  send  them  up  for  me  to  hang,  without  more 
to-do  about  them  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  that  he  is  afraid,  my  lord ;  it  is  not  safe  to  med- 
dle with  them.  They  are  of  good  birth,  and  reckless;  and 
their  place  is  very  strong." 

"  Good  birth !  What  was  Lord  Russell  of.  Lord  Essex,  and 
this  Sidney  ?  'Tis  the  surest  heirship  to  the  block,  to  be  the 
chip  of  an  old  one.  What  is  the  name  of  this  pestilent  race, 
and  how  many  of  them  are  there  ?  " 

"They  are  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy  forest,  may  it  please 
your  worship.  And  we  reckon  there  be  about  forty  of  them, 
beside  the  women  and  children." 

"Forty  Doones,  all  forty  thieves!  and  women  and  children! 
Thunder  of  God !     How  long  have  they  been  there  then  ?  " 

"They  may  have  been  there  thirty  years,  my  lord;  and  in- 
deed they  may  have  been  forty.  Before  the  great  war  broke 
out  they  came,  longer  back  than  I  can  remember." 

"Ay,  long  before  thou  wast  born,  John.  Good,  thou  speak- 
est  plainly.  Woe  betide  a  liar,  whenso  I  get  hold  of  him. 
Ye  want  me  on  the  Western  Circuit;  by  God,  and  ye  shall 
have  me,  when  London  traitors  are  spun  and  swung.  There 
is  a  family  called  De  Whichehalse  living  very  nigh  thee, 
John  ?  " 

This  he  said  in  a  sudden  manner,  as  if  to  take  me  off  my 
guard,  and  fixed  his  great  thick  eyes  on  me.  And  in  truth  I 
was  much  astonished. 

"Yes,  my  lord,  there  is.  At  least,  not  so  very  far  from  us. 
Baron  de  AVhichehalse,  of  Ley  Manor." 

"Baron,  ha!  of  the  Exchequer  —  eh,  lad?     And  taketh  dues 


JOHN  IS  DRAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  173 

instead  of  His  Majesty.  Somewhat  which  halts  there  ought 
to  come  a  little  further,  I  trow.  It  shall  be  seen  to,  as  well 
as  the  witch  which  makes  it  so  to  halt.  Eiotous  knaves  in 
West  England,  drunken  outlaws,  you  shall  dance,  if  ever  I  play 
pipe  for  you.  John  Eidd,  I  will  come  to  Oare  Parish,  and 
rout  out  the  Oare  of  Babylon." 

"Although  your  worship  is  so  learned,"  I  answered,  seeing 
that  now  he  was  beginning  to  make  things  uneasy;  "your 
worship,  though  being  Chief  Justice,  does  little  justice  to  us. 
We  are  downright  good  and  loyal  folk;  and  I  have  not  seen, 
since  here  I  came  to  this  great  town  of  London,  any  who  may 
better  us,  or  even  come  anigh  us,  in  honesty,  and  goodness, 
and  duty  to  our  neighbors.  For  we  are  very  quiet  folk,  not 
prating  our  own  virtues  " 

"Enough,  good  John,  enough!  Knowest  thou  not  that 
modesty  is  the  maidenhood  of  virtue,  lost  even  by  her  own 
approval  ?  Now  hast  thou  ever  heard  or  thought,  that  De 
Whichehalse  is  in  league  with  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy  ?  " 

Saying  these  words  rather  slowly,  he  skewered  his  great 
eyes  into  mine,  so  that  I  could  not  think  at  all,  neither  look 
at  him,  nor  yet  away.  The  idea  was  so  new  to  me,  that  it  set 
mv  wits  all  wandering;  and  looking  into  me,  he  saw  that  I 
was  groping  for  the  truth. 

"John  Ridd,  thine  ej^es  are  enough  for  me.  I  see  thou  hast 
never  dreamed  of  it.  Xow  hast  thou  ever  seen  a  man,  whose 
name  is  Thomas  Faggus  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  many  and  many  a  time.     He  is  my  own  worthy 

cousin;  and  I  fear  that  he  hath  intentions  " here  I  stopped, 

having  no  right  there  to  speak  about  our  Annie. 

"Tom  Faggus  is  a  good  man,"  he  said;  and  his  great  square 
face  had  a  smile  which  showed  me  he  had  met  my  cousin; 
"  Master  Faggus  hath  made  mistakes  as  to  the  title  to  prop- 
erty, as  lawyers  oftentimes  may  do;  but  take  him  all  for  all, 
he  is  a  thoroughly  straightforward  man ;  presents  his  bill,  and 
has  it  paid,  and  makes  no  charge  for  drawing  it.  Neverthe- 
less, we  must  tax  his  costs,  as  of  an}"  other  solicitor." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  lord!  "  was  all  that  I  could  say, 
not  understanding  what  all  this  meant. 

"I  fear  he  will  come  to  the  gallows,"  said  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice,  sinking  his  voice  below  the  echoes;  "tell  him  this 
from  me.  Jack.  He  shall  never  be  condemned  before  me;  but 
I  cannot  be  everywhere ;  and  some  of  our  Justices  may  keep 
short  memory  of  his  dinners.  Tell  him  to  change  his  name, 
turn  parson,  or  do  something  else,  to  make  it  wrong  to  hang 


174  LOBNA   DOONE. 

him.  Parson  is  the  best  thing;  he  hath  such  command  of 
features,  and  he  might  take  his  tithes  on  horseback.  Now  a 
few  more  things,  John  Ridd;  and  for  the  present  I  have  done 
with  thee." 

All  my  heart  leaped  up  at  this,  to  get  away  from  London  so  : 
and  yet  I  could  hardly  trust  to  it. 

"Is  there  any  sound  round  your  way  of  disaffection  to  His 
Majesty,  His  most  gracious  iMajesty  ?  " 

"No,  my  lord:  no  sign  whatever.  We  pray  for  him  in 
church  perhaps ;  and  we  talk  about  him  afterwards,  hoping  it 
may  do  him  good,  as  it  is  intended.  But  after  that  we  have 
naught  to  say,  not  knowing  much  about  him  —  at  least  till  I  get 
home  again." 

"That  is  as  it  should  be,  John.  And  the  less  you  say  the 
better.  But  I  have  heard  of  things  in  Taunton,  and  even 
nearer  to  you  in  Dulverton,  and  even  nigher  still  upon  Exmoor; 
things  which  are  of  the  pillory  kind,  and  even  more  of  the  gal- 
lows. I  see  that  you  know  naught  of  them.  Nevertheless,  it 
will  not  be  long  before  all  England  hears  of  them.  Now,  John, 
I  have  taken  a  liking  to  thee;  for  never  man  told  me  the  truth, 
without  fear  or  favor,  more  thoroughly  and  truly  than  thou 
hast  done.  Keep  thou  clear  of  tliis,  my  son.  It  will  come  to 
nothing;  yet  many  shall  swing  high  for  it.  Even  I  could  not 
save  thee,  John  Eidd,  if  thou  wert  mixed  in  this  affair.  Keep 
from  the  Doones,  keep  from  De  Whichehalse,  keep  from  every- 
thing which  leads  beyond  the  sight  of  thy  knowledge.  I  meant 
to  use  thee  as  my  tool;  but  I  see  thou  art  too  honest  and 
simple.  I  will  send  a  sharper  down;  but  never  let  me  find 
thee,  John,  either  a  tool  for  the  other  side,  or  a  tube  for  my 
words  to  pass  through." 

Here  the  Lord  Justice  gave  me  such  a  glare,  that  I  wished 
myself  well  rid  of  him,  though  thankful  for  his  warnings;  and 
seeing  how  he  had  made  upon  me  a  long  abiding  mark  of  fear, 
he  smiled  again  in  a  jocular  manner,  and  said, — 

"  Now,  get  thee  gone.  Jack.  I  shall  remember  thee ;  and  I 
trow,  thou  wilt'st  not  for  many  a  day  forget  me." 

"My  lord,  I  was  never  so  glad  to  go;  for  the  hay  must  be 
ill,  and  the  ricks  unthatched,  and  none  of  them  can  make  spars 
like  me,  and  two  men  to  twist  every  hay-rope,  and  mother 
thinking  it  all  right,  and  listening  right  and  left  to  lies,  and 
cheated  at  every  pig  she  kills,  and  even  the  skins  of  the  shee]) 
to  go  " 

"John  Ridd,  I  thought  none  could  come  nigh  your  folk,  in 
honesty  and  goodness,  and  duty  to  their  neighbors  I  " 


JOHN  IS  LliAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  175 

"Sure  enough,  my  lord;  but  by  our  folk,  I  mean  ourselves, 
not  the  men  nor  women  neither  " 

"  That  will  do,  John.  Go  thy  way.  Not  men,  nor  women 
neither,  are  better  than  they  need  be." 

I  Avished  to  set  this  matter  right;  but  his  worship  would  not 
hear  me ;  and  only  drove  me  out  of  the  court,  saying  that  men 
were  thieves  and  liars,  nor  more  in  onei  place  than  another, 
but  all  alike  all  over  the  world,  and  women  not  far  behind 
them.  It  was  not  for  me  to  dispute  this  point  (though  I  was 
not  yet  persuaded  of  it),  both  because  my  lord  was  a  Judge, 
and  must  know  more  about  it,  and  also  that  being  a  man  myself 
I  might  seem  to  be  defending  myself  in  an  unbecoming  man- 
ner. Therefore  I  made  a  low  bow,  and  went;  in  doubt  as  to 
which  had  the  right  of  it. 

But  though  he  had  so  far  dismissed  me,  I  was  not  yet  quite 
free  to  go,  inasmuch  as  I  had  not  money  enough  to  take  me  all 
the  way  to  Oare,  unless  indeed  I  should  go  afoot,  and  beg  my 
sustenance  by  the  way,  which  seemed  to  be  below  me.  There- 
fore I  got  my  few  clothes  packed,  and  my  few  debts  paid,  all 
ready  to  start  in  half-an-hour,  if  only  they  would  give  me 
enough  to  set  out  upon  the  road  with.  For  I  doubted  not,  being 
young  and  strong,  that  I  could  walk  from  London  to  Oare  in 
ten  days  or  in  twelve  at  most,  which  was  not  much  longer  than 
horse-work;  only  I  had  been  a  fool,  as  you  will  say  when  you 
hear  it.  For  after  receiving  from  Master  Spank  the  amount  of 
the  bill  which  I  had  delivered  —  less  indeed  by  fifty  shillings 
than  the  money  my  mother  had  given  me,  for  I  hati  spent  fifty 
shillings,  and  more,  in  seeing  the  town  and  treating  people, 
which  I  could  not  charge  to  His  Majest}^  —  I  had  first  paid  all 
my  debts  thereout,  which  were  not  very  many,  and  then  sup- 
posing myself  to  be  an  established  creditor  of  the  Treasury 
for  my  coming  needs,  and  already  scenting  the  country  air,  and 
foreseeing  the  joy  of  my  mother,  what  had  I  done  but  spent  half 
my  balance,  ay  and  more  than  three-quarters  of  it,  upon  pres- 
ents for  mother,  and  Annie,  and  Lizzie,  John  Fry,  and  his  wife, 
and  Betty  Muxworthy,  Bill  Dadds,  Jim  Slocombe,  and,  in  a 
word,  half  of  the  rest  of  the  people  at  Oare,  including  all  the 
Snowe  family,  who  must  have  things  good  and  handsome? 
And  if  I  must  while  I  am  about  it  hide  nothing  from  those  who 
read  me,  I  had  actually  bought  for  Lorna  a  thing  the  price  of 
which  quite  frightened  me,  till  the  shop-keeper  said  it  was 
nothing  at  all,  and  that  no  young  man,  with  a  lady  to  love  him, 
could  dare  to  offer  her  rubbish,  such  as  the  Jew  sold  across  the 
wav.     Now  the  mere  idea  of  beautiful  Lorna  ever  loving  me, 


176  LOENA    DOONE. 

which  he  talked  about  as  patly  (though  of  course  I  never  men- 
tioned her)  as  if  it  were  a  settled  thing,  and  he  knew  all  about 
it,  that  mere  idea  so  drove  me  abroad,  that  if  he  had  asked 
three  times  as  much,  I  could  never  have  counted  the  money. 

Now  in  all  this  I  was  a  fool  of  course  —  not  for  remember- 
ing my  friends  and  neighbors,  which  a  man  has  a  right  to  do, 
and  indeed  is  bound  to  do,  when  he  comes  from  London  —  but 
for  not  being  certified  first,  what  cash  I  had  to  go  on  with. 
And  to  my  great  amazement,  when  I  went  with  another  bill 
for  the  victuals  of  only  three  days  more,  and  a  week's  expense 
on  the  homeward  road  reckoned  very  narrowly,  Master  Spank 
not  only  refused  to  grant  me  any  interview,  but  sent  me  out  a 
piece  of  blue  paper,  looking  like  a  butcher's  ticket,  and  bearing 
these  words  and  no  more,  "  John  Ridd,  go  to  the  devil.  He 
who  will  not  when  he  may,  when  he  will,  he  shall  have  nay." 
From  this  I  concluded  that  I  had  lost  favor  in  the  sight  of 
Chief  Justice  Jeffreys.  Perhaps  because  my  evidence  had  not 
proved  of  any  value;  perhaps  because  he  meant  to  let  the  mat- 
ter lie,  till  cast  on  him. 

Anyhow,  it  was  a  reason  of  much  grief,  and  some  anger,  to 
me,  and  very  great  anxiety,  disappointment,  and  suspense. 
For  here  was  the  time  of  the  hay  gone  past,  and  the  harvest  of 
small  corn  coming  on,  and  the  trout  now  rising  at  the  yellow 
Sally,  and  the  blackbirds  eating  our  white-heart  cherries  (I 
was  sure,  though  T  could  not  see  them),  and  who  was  to  do  any 
good  for  mother,  or  stop  her  from  weeping  continually?  And 
more  than  this,  what  was  become  of  Lorna?  Perhaps  she  had 
cast  me  away  altogether,  as  a  flouter  and  a  changeling;  per- 
haps she  had  drowned  herself  in  the  black  well ;  perhaps  (and 
that  was  worst  of  all)  she  was  even  married,  child  as  she  was, 
to  that  vile  Carver  Doone,  if  the  Doones  ever  cared  about 
marrying !  That  last  thought  sent  me  down  at  once  to  watch 
for  Mr.  Spank  again,  resolved  that  if  I  could  catch  him,  spank 
him  I  would  to  a  pretty  good  tune,  although  sixteen  in  family. 

However,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  to  find  him ;  and  the 
usher  vowed  (having  orders  I  doubt)  that  he  was  gone  to  the 
sea  for  the  good  of  his  health,  having  sadly  overworked  him- 
self; and  that  none  but  a  poor  devil  like  himself,  who  never 
had  handling  of  money,  would  stay  in  London  this  foul,  hot 
weather;  which  was  likely  to  bring  the  plague  with  it.  Here 
was  another  new  terror  for  me,  who  had  heard  of  the  plagues 
of  London,  and  the  horrible  things  that  happened;  and  so  going 
back  to  my  lodgings  at  once,  I  opened  my  clothes  and  sought 
for  spots,  especially  as  being  so  long  at  a  hair}'  fellmonger's; 


JOHN  IS  DRAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  177 

but  finding  none,  I  fell  down  and  thanked  God  for  that  same, 
and  vowed  to  start  for  Oare  to-morrow,  with  my  carbine  loaded, 
come  weal  come  woe,  come  sun  come  shower;  though  all  the 
parish  should  laugh  at  me,  for  begging  my  way  home  again, 
after  the  brave  things  said  of  my  going,  as  if  I  had  been  the 
King's  cousin. 

But  I  was  saved  in  some  degree  from  this  lowering  of  my 
pride,  and  what  mattered  more,  of  mother's;  for  going  to  buy 
with  my  last  crown-piece  (after  all  demands  were  paid)  a  little 
shot  and  powder,  more  needful  on  the  road  almost  than  even 
shoes  or  victuals,  at  the  corner  of  the  street  I  met  my  good 
friend  Jeremy  Stickles,  newly  come  in  search  of  me.  I  took 
him  back  to  my  little  room  —  mine  at  least  till  to-morrow 
morning  —  and  told  him  all  my  story,  and  how  much  I  felt 
aggrieved  by  it.  But  he  surprised  me  very  much,  by  showing 
no  surprise  at  all. 

"  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Jack.  They  have  gotten  all 
they  can  from  thee,  and  why  should  they  feed  thee  further? 
We  feed  not  a  dead  pig,  I  trow,  but  baste  him  well  with  brine 
and  rue.  ^ay,  we  do  not  victual  him  upon  the  day  of  killing; 
which  they  have  done  to  thee.  Thou  art  a  lucky  man,  John; 
thou  hast  gotten  one  day's  wages,  or  at  any  rate  half  a  day, 
after  thy  work  was  rendered.  God  have  mercy  on  me,  John! 
The  things  I  see  are  manifold;  and  so  is  my  regard  of  them. 
What  use  to  insist  on  this,  or  make  a  special  point  of  that,  or 
hold  by  something  said  of  old,  when  a  different  mood  was  on? 
I  tell  thee.  Jack,  all  men  are  liars ;  and  he  is  the  least  one,  who 
presses  not  too  hard  on  them  for  lying." 

This  was  all  quite  dark  to  me,  for  I  never  looked  at  things 
like  that,  and  never  would  own  myself  a  liar,  not  at  least  to 
other  people,  nor  even  to  myself,  although  I  might  to  God  some- 
times, when  trouble  was  upon  me.  And  if  it  comes  to  that, 
no  man  has  any  right  to  be  called  a  "liar"  for  smoothing  over 
things  unwitting,  through  duty  to  his  neighbor. 

"Five  pounds  thou  shalt  have.  Jack,"  said  Jeremy  Stickles 
suddenly,  while  I  was  all  abroad  with  myself  as  to  being  a  liar 
or  not;  "five  pounds,  and  I  will  take  my  chance  of  wringing 
it  from  that  great  rogue  Spank.  Ten  I  would  have  made  it, 
John,  but  for  bad  luck  lately.  Put  back  your  bits  of  paper, 
lad;  I  will  have  no  acknowledgment.  John  Kidd,  no  nonsense 
with  me ! " 

For  I  was  ready  to  kiss  his  hand,  to  think  that  any  man  in 
London  (the  meanest  and  most  suspicious  place,  upon  all  God's 
earth)  should  trust  me  with  five  pounds,  without  even  a  receipt 

VOL.  I. —  12 


178  LORNA   BOONE. 

fur  it!  It  overcame  me  so  that  I  sobbed;  for,  after  all,  though 
big  in  body,  I  am  but  a  child  at  heart.  It  was  not  the  five 
pounds  that  moved  me,  but  the  way  of  giving  it;  and  after  so 
much  bitter  talk,  the  great  trust  in  my  goodness. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

HOME    AGAIN    AT    LAST. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  wheat-harvest,  when  I  came  to  Dun- 
ster  town,  having  walked  all  the  way  from  London,  and  being 
somewhat  footsore.  For  though  five  pounds  was  enough  to 
keep  me  in  food  and  lodging  upon  the  road,  and  leave  me  many 
a  shilling  to  give  to  far  poorer  travellers,  it  would  have  been 
nothing  for  horse-hire,  as  I  knew  too  well  by  the  prices  Jeremy 
Stickles  had  paid,  upon  our  way  to  London.  Now  I  never 
saw  a  prettier  town  than  Dunster  looked  that  evening ;  for  sooth 
to  say,  I  had  almost  lost  all  hope  of  reaching  it  that  night, 
although  the  castle  was  long  in  view.  But  being  once  there 
my  troubles  were  gone,  at  least  as  regarded  wayfaring;  for 
mother's  cousin,  the  worthy  tanner  (with  whom  we  had  slept 
on  the  way  to  London),  was  in  such  indignation  at  the  plight 
in  which  I  came  back  to  him,  afoot,  and  weary,  and  almost 
shoeless  —  not  to  speak  of  upper  things  —  that  he  swore  then, 
by  the  mercy  of  God,  that  if  the  schemes  abrewing  round  him, 
against  those  bloody  Papists,  should  come  to  any  head  or  shape, 
and  show  good  chance  of  succeeding,  he  would  risk  a  thousand 
pounds,  as  though  it  were  a  penny. 

I  told  him  not  to  do  it,  because  I  had  heard  otherwise,  but 
was  not  at  liberty  to  tell  one-tenth  of  what  I  knew,  and  indeed 
had  seen  in  London  town.  But  of  this  he  took  no  heed,  because 
I  only  nodded  at  him;  and  he  could  not  make  it  out.  For  it 
takes  an  old  man,  or  at  least  a  middle-aged  one,  to  nod  and 
wink,  with  any  power  on  the  brains  of  other  men.  However, 
I  think  I  made  him  know  that  the  bad  state  in  which  I  came 
to  his  town,  and  the  great  shame  I  had  wrought  for  him  among 
the  folk  round  the  card-table  at  the  "Luttrell  Arms,"  was  not 
to  be,  even  there,  attributed  to  King  Charles  the  Second,  nor 
even  to  his  counsellors,  but  to  my  own  speed  of  travelling, 
which  had  beat  post-horses.  For  being  much  distraught  in 
mind,  and  desperate  in  body,  I  had  made  all  the  way  from 
London  to  Dunster  in  six  days,  and  no  more.     It  may  be  one 


HOME  AGAIN  AT  LAST.  179 

hundred  and  seventy  miles,  I  cannot  tell  tu  a  furlong  or  two, 
especially  as  I  lost  my  way  more  than  a  dozen  times ;  but  at 
any  rate  there  in  six  days  I  was,  and  most  kindly  they  received 
me.  The  tanner  had  some  excellent  daughters,  I  forget  how 
many;  very  pretty  damsels,  and  well  set  up,  and  able  to  make 
good  tanner's  pie.  But  though  they  asked  me  many  questions, 
and  made  a  sort  of  lord  of  me,  and  offered  to  darn  my  stock- 
ings (which  in  truth  required  it),  I  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of 
them,  although  I  would  not  acknowledge  it;  and  they  said, 
"  Poor  cousin !  he  is  weary ;  "  and  led  me  to  a  blessed  bed,  and 
kissed  me  all  round  like  swan's  down. 

In  the  morning  all  the  Exmoor  hills,  the  thoughts  of  which 
had  frightened  me  at  the  end  of  each  day's  travel,  seemed  no 
more  than  bushels  to  me,  as  I  looked  forth  the  bedroom  win- 
dow, and  thanked  God  for  the  sight  of  them.  And  even  so,  1 
had  not  to  climb  them,  at  least  by  my  own  labor.  For  my 
most  wortJiy  uncle  (as  we  often  call  a  parent's  cousin),  finding 
it  impossible  to  keep  me  for  the  day,  and  owning  indeed  that 
I  was  right  in  hastening  to  my  mother,  vowed  that  walk  I 
should  not,  even  though  he  lost  his  Saturday  hides  from  Mine- 
head  and  from  Watcliett.  Accordingly  he  sent  me  forth  on 
the  very  strongest  nag  he  had,  and  the  maidens  came  to  wish 
me  God  speed,  and  kissed  their  hands  at  the  doorway.  It  made 
me  proud  and  glad  to  think,  that  after  seeing  so  much  of  the 
world,  and  having  held  my  own  with  it,  I  was  come  once  more 
among  my  own  people,  and  found  them  kinder,  and  more  warm- 
hearted, ay  and  better-looking  too,  than  almost  any  I  had  hap- 
pened upon  in  the  mighty  city  of  London. 

But  how  shall  I  tell  you  the  things  I  felt,  and  the  swelling 
of  my  heart  within  me,  as  I  drew  nearer,  and  more  near,  to  the 
place  of  all  I  loved  and  owned,  to  the  haunt  of  every  warm  re- 
membrance, the  nest  of  all  the  fledgeling  hopes  —  in  a  word,  to 
home?  The  first  sheep  I  beheld  on  the  moor  with  a  great  red 
J.  E.  on  his  side  (for  mother  would  have  them  marked  with  my 
name,  instead  of  her  own  as  they  should  have  been)  I  do  assure 
you  my  spirit  leaped,  and  all  my  sight  came  to  my  eyes.  I 
shouted  out,  ''  Jem,  boy !  "  —  for  jbhat  was  his  name,  and  a  rare 
hand  he  was  at  fighting  —  and  he  knew  me  in  spite  of  the  stran- 
ger horse ;  and  I  leaned  over,  and  stroked  his  head,  and  swore 
he  should  never  be  mutton.  And  when  I  was  passed,  he  set 
off  at  full  gallop,  to  call  all  the  rest  of  the  J.  R.'s  together,  and 
tell  them  young  master  was  come  home  at  last. 

But  bless  your  heart,  and  my  own  as  well,  it  would  take  me 
all  the  afternoon  to  lav  before  vou  one-tenth  of  tlie  thingrs  which 


180  LORN  A   BOONE. 

came  home  to  me  in  that  one  half -hour,  as  the  sun  was  sinking, 
in  the  real  way  he  ought  to  sink.  I  touched  my  horse  with 
no  spur  nor  whip,  feeling  that  my  slow  wits  would  go,  if  the 
sights  came  too  fast  over  them.  Here  was  the  pool  where  we 
washed  the  sheep  and  there  was  the  hollow  that  oozed  away, 
where  I  had  shot  three  wild  ducks.  Here  was  the  peat-rick 
that  hid  my  dinner,  when  I  could  not  go  home  for  it,  and  there 
was  the  bush  with  the  thyme  growing  round  it,  where  Annie 
had  found  a  great  swarm  of  our  bees.  And  now  was  the  corner 
of  the  dry  stone  wall,  where  the  moor  gave  over  in  earnest, 
and  the  partridges  whisked  from  it  into  the  corn  lands,  and 
called  that  their  supper  was  ready,  and  looked  at  our  house 
and  the  ricks  as  they  ran,  and  would  wait  for  that  comfort  till 
winter. 

And  there  I  saw  —  but  let  me  go  —  Annie  was  too  much  for 
me.  She  nearly  pulled  me  off  my  horse,  and  kissed  the  very 
mouth  of  the  carbine. 

^'I  knew  you  would  come.  Oh  John!  Oh  John!  I  have 
waited  here  every  Saturday  night;  and  I  saw  you  for  the  last 
mile  or  more,  but  I  would  not  come  round  the  corner,  for  fear 
that  I  should  cry,  John ;  and  then  not  cry  when  I  got  you. 
Now  I  may  cry  as  much  as  I  like,  and  you  need  not  try  to  stop 
me,  John,  because  I  am  so  happy.  But  you  mustn't  cry  your- 
self, John;  what  will  mother  think  of  you?  She  will  be  so 
jealous  of  me." 

What  mother  thought  I  cannot  tell;  and  indeed  I  doubt  if 
she  thought  at  all  for  more  than  half-an-hour,  but  only  man- 
aged to  hold  me  tight,  and  cry,  and  thank  God  now  and  then ; 
but  with  some  fear  of  His  taking  me,  if  she  should  be  too 
grateful.  Moreover  she  thought  it  was  my  own  doing,  and  I 
ought  to  have  the  credit  of  it,  and  she  even  came  down  very 
sharply  upon  John's  wife,  Mrs.  Fry,  for  saying  that  we  must 
not  be  too  proud,  for  all  of  it  was  the  Lord's  doing.  However, 
dear  mother  was  ashamed  of  that  afterwards,  and  asked  Mrs. 
Fry's  humble  pardon;  and  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  men- 
tioned it. 

Old  Smiler  had  told  them  that  I  was  coming  —  all  the  rest 
I  mean  except  Annie  — for  having  escaped  from  his  halter- 
ring,  he  was  come  out  to  graze  in  the  lane  a  bit;  when  what 
should  he  see  but  a  strange  horse  coming,  with  young  master 
and  mistress  upon  him,  for  Annie  must  needs  get  up  behind 
me,  there  being  only  sheep  to  look  at  her?  Then  Smiler  gave 
us  a  stare  and  a  neigh,  with  his  tail  quite  stiff  with  amazement, 
and  then  (whether  in  joy,  or  through  indignation)  he  flung  up 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORN  A.  181 

his  hind  feet,  and  galloped  straight  home,  and  set  every  dog 
wild  with  barking. 

Kow,  methinks,  quite  enough  has  been  said  concerning  this 
mighty  return  of  the  young  John  Eidd  (which  was  known  up 
at  Cosgate  that  evening),  and  feeling  that  I  cannot  describe 
it,  how  can  I  hope  that  any  one  else  w411  labor  to  imagine  it, 
even  of  the  few  who  are  able?  For  very  few  can  have  travelled 
so  far,  unless  indeed  they  whose  trade  it  is,  or  very  unsettled 
people.  And  even  of  those  who  have  done  so,  not  one  in  a 
hundred  can  have  such  a  home  as  I  had  to  come  home  to. 

Mother  wept  again,  with  grief  and  some  wrath,  and  so  did 
Annie  also,  and  even  little  Eliza,  and  all  were  unsettled  in 
loyalty,  and  talked  about  a  republic,  when  I  told  them  how  I 
had  been  left  without  money  for  travelling  homeward,  and 
expected  to  have  to  beg  my  way,  which  Farmer  Snowe  would 
have  heard  of.  And  though  I  could  see  they  were  disappointed 
at  my  failure  of  any  promotion,  they  all  declared  how  glad 
they  were,  and  how  much  better  they  liked  me  to  be  no  more 
than  what  they  were  accustomed  to.  At  least,  my  mother  and 
Annie  said  so,  without  waiting  to  hear  any  more;  but  Lizzie 
did  not  answer  to  it,  until  I  had  opened  my  bag  and  shown  the 
beautiful  present  I  had  for  her.  And  then  she  kissed  me, 
almost  like  Annie,  and  vowed  that  she  thought  very  little  of 
captains. 

For  Lizzie's  present  was  the  best  of  all,  I  mean  of  course 
except  Lorna's  (which  I  carried  in  my  breast  all  the  way,  hop- 
ing that  it  might  make  her  love  me,  from  having  lain  so  long, 
close  to  my  heart).  For  I  had  brought  Lizzie  something  dear, 
and  a  precious  heavy  book  it  was,  and  much  beyond  my  under- 
standing: whereas  I  knew  well  that  to  both  the  others  my 
gifts  would  be  dear  for  mine  own  sake.  And  happier  people 
could  not  be  found,  than  the  whole  of  us  were  that  evening. 


CHAPTER   XXYIII. 

JOHN    HAS    HOPE    OF    LORNA. 

Much  as  I  longed  to  know  more  about  Lorna,  and  though  all 
mj^  heart  was  yearning,  I  could  not  reconcile  it  yet  with  my 
duty  to  mother  and  Annie,  to  leave  them  on  the  following  day, 
which  happened  to  be  a  Sunday.  For  lo,  before  breakfast  was 
out  of  our  mouths,  there  camc^  all  the  men  of  the  farm,  and 


182  LORNA   DOONE. 

their  wives,  and  even  the  two  crow-boys,  dressed  as  if  going 
to  Barnstaple  fair,  to  inquire  how  Master  John  was,  and  whether 
it  was  true  that  the  King  had  made  him  one  of  his  body-guard; 
and  if  so,  what  Avas  to  be  done  w4th  the  belt  for  the  champion- 
ship of  the  West-Counties'  wrestling,  which  I  had  held  now 
for  a  year  or  more,  and  none  were  ready  to  challenge  it. 
Strange  to  say,  this  last  point  seemed  the  most  important  of 
all  to  them;  and  none  asked  who  Avas  to  manage  the  farm,  or 
answer  for  their  wages ;  but  all  asked  who  Avas  to  wear  the  belt. 

To  this  I  replied,  after  shaking  hands  twice  over  all  round 
with  all  of  them,  that  I  meant  to  wear  the  belt  myself,  for  the 
honor  of  Oare  parish,  so  long  as  ever  God  gave  me  strength, 
and  health  to  meet  all  comers :  for  I^  had  never  been  asked  to 
be  body-guard;  and  if  asked  I  would  never  have  done  it. 
Some  of  them  cried  that  the  King  must  be  mazed,  not  to  keep 
me  for  his  protection,  in  these  violent  times  of  Popery.  I 
could  have  told  them  that  the  King  was  not  in  the  least  afraid 
of  Papists,  but  on  the  contrary,  very  fond  of  them ;  however, 
I  held  my  tongue,  remembering  what  Judge  Jeffreys  bade  me. 

In  church,  the  whole  congregation,  man,  Avoman,  and  child 
(except  indeed  the  SnoAve  girls,  avIio  only  looked  Avhen  I  was 
not  Avatching),  turned  on  me  Avith  one  accord,  and  stared  so 
steadfastly,  to  get  some  reflection  of  the  King  from  me,  that 
they  forgot  the  time  to  kneel  doAvn,  and  the  parson  was  forced 
to  speak  to  them.  If  I  coughed,  or  moA^ed  my  book,  or  bowed, 
or  even  said  "Amen,"  glances  Avere  exchanged  A\diich  meant 
—  "That  he  hath  learned  in  London  toA\ai,  and  most  likely 
from  His  Majesty." 

HoAvever,  all  this  Avent  off  in  time ;  and  people  became  even 
angry  with  me,  for  not  being  sharper  (as  they  said),  or  smarter, 
or  a  whit  more  fashionable,  for  all  the  great  company  I  had 
seen,  and  all  the  Avondrous  things  Avasted  upon  me. 

But  though  I  may  have  been  none  the  Aviser  by  reason  of  my 
stay  in  London,  at  any  rate  I  Avas  much  the  better  in  virtue  of 
coming  home  again.  For  noAv  I  had  learned  the  joy  of  quiet, 
and  the  gratitude  for  good  things  round  us,  and  the  love  Ave 
OAve  to  others  (even  those  Avho  must  be  kind),  for  their  indul- 
gence to  us.  All  this,  before  my  journey,  had  been  too  much 
as  a  matter  of  course  to  me ;  but  having  missed  it  noAv  I  kncAv 
that  it  was  a  gift,  and  might  be  lost.  Moreover,  I  had  pined  so 
much,  in  the  dust  and  heat  of  that  great  town,  for  trees,  and 
fields,  and  running  Avaters,  and  the  sounds  of  country  life,  and 
the  air  of  country  Avinds,  that  never  more  could  I  groAv  Aveary 
of  those  soft  enjoyments;  or  at  least  I  thought  so  then. 


JOHN  HAS   HOPE  OF  LORN  A.  183 

To  awake  as  the  summer  sun  came  slanting  over  the  hill- 
tops, with  hope  on  every  beam  aclance  to  the  laughter  of  the 
morning;  to  see  the  leaves  across  the  Avindow  ruflling  on  the 
fresh  new  air,  and  the  tendrils  of  the  powdery  vine  turning 
from  their  beaded  sleep.  Then  the  lustrous  meadows  far 
beyond  the  thatch  of  the  garden-wall,  yet  seen  beneath  the 
hanging  scollops  of  the  walnut-tree,  all  awaking,  dressed  in 
pearl,  all  amazed  at  their  own  glistening,  like  a  maid  at  her 
own  ideas.  Down  th^n  troop  the  lowing  kine,  walking  each 
with  a  step  of  character  (even  as  men  and  women  do),  yet  all 
alike  with  toss  of  horns,  and  spread  of  udders  ready.  From 
them,  without  a  word,  we  turn  to  the  farm-yard  proper,  seen 
on  the  right,  and  dryly  strawed  from  the  petty  rush  of  the 
pitch-paved  runnel.  Eound  it  stand  the  snug  outbuildings, 
barn,  corn-chamber,  cider-press,  stables,  with  a  blinker'dhorse 
in  every  doorway  munching,  while  his  driver  tightens  buckles, 
whistles  and  looks  doAvn  the  lane,  dallying  to  begin  his  labor 
till  the  milkmaids  be  gone  by.  Here  the  cock  comes  forth  at 
last;  —  where  has  he  been  lingering?  —  eggs  may  tell  to-mor- 
row—  he  claps  his  wings  and  shouts  "cock-a-doodle;  "  and  no 
other  cock  dare  look  at  him.  Two  or  three  go  sidling  off,  wait- 
ing till  their  spurs  be  grown ;  and  then  the  crowd  of  partlets 
comes,  chattering  how  their  lord  has  dreamed,  and  crowed  at 
two  in  the  morning,  and  praying  that  the  old  brown  rat  would 
only  dare  to  face  him.  But  while  the  cock  is  crowing  still,  and 
the  pullet  world  admiring  him,  who  comes  up  but  the  old 
turkey-cock,  Avith  all  his  family  round  him.  Then  the  geese 
at  the  lower  end  begin  to  thrust  their  breasts  out,  and  mum 
their  downbits,  and  look  at  the  gander,  and  scream  shrill  joy 
for  the  conflict;  while  the  ducks  in  pond  show  nothing  but  tail, 
in  proof  of  their  strict  neutrality. 

While  yet  we  dread  for  the  coming  event,  and  the  fight  which 
would  jar  on  the  morning,  behold  the  grandmother  of  sows, 
gruffly  grunting,  right  and  left,  with  muzzle  which  no  ring  may 
tame  (not  being  matrimonial),  hulks  across  between  the  two, 
moving  all  each  side  at  once,  and  then  all  of  the  other  side,  as 
if  she  were  chined  down  the  middle,  and  afraid  of  spilling  the 
salt  from  her.  As  this  mighty  view  of  lard  hides  each  comba- 
tant from  the  other,  gladly  each  retires,  and  boasts  how  he  would 
have  slain  his  neighbor,  but  that  old  sow  drove  the  other  away, 
and  no  wonder  he  was  afraid  of  her,  after  all  the  chicks  she 
has  eaten. 

And  so  it  goes  on;  and  so  the  sun  comes,  stronger  from  his 
drink  of  dew;  and  the  cattle  in  the  byres,  and  the  horses  from 


184  LORN  A   DOONE. 

the  stable,  and  the  men  from  cottage-door,  each  has  had  his 
rest  and  food,  all  smell  alike  of  hay  and  straw,  and  every  one 
must  hie  to  work,  be  it  drag,  or  draw,  or  delve. 

So  thought  I,  on  the  Monday  morning;  while  my  own  work 
lay  before  me,  and  I  was  plotting  how  to  quit  it,  void  of  harm 
to  every  one,  and  let  my  love  have  work  a  little  —  hardest  per- 
haps of  all  work,  and  yet  as  sure  as  sunrise.  I  knew  that  my 
first  day's  task  on  the  farm  Avould  be  strictly  watched  by  every 
one,  even  by  my  gentle  mother,  to  see  what  I  had  learned  in 
London.  But  could  I  let  still  another  day  pass,  for  Lorna  to 
think  me  faithless? 

I  felt  much  inclined  to  tell  dear  mother  all  about  Lorna,  and 
how  I  loved  her,  yet  had  no  hope  of  winning  her.  Often  and 
often  I  had  longed  to  do  this,  and  have  done  with  it.  But  the 
thought  of  my  father's  terrible  death,  at  the  hands  of  the 
Doones,  prevented  me.  And  it  seemed  to  me  foolish  and  mean 
to  grieve  mother,  without  any  chance  of  my  suit  ever  speeding. 
If  once  Lorna  loved  me,  my  mother  should  know  it ;  and  it 
would  be  the  greatest  happiness  to  me  to  have  no  concealment 
from  her,  though  at  first  she  was  sure  to  grieve  terribly.  But 
I  saw  no  more  chance  of  Lorna  loving  me,  than  of  the  man  in 
the  moon  coming  down;  or  rather  of  the  moon  coming  down  to 
the  man,  as  related  in  old  mythology. 

Now  the  merriment  of  the  small  birds,  and  the  clear  voice 
of  the  waters,  and  the  lowing  of  cattle  in  meadoAvs,  and  the 
view  of  no  houses  (except  just  our  own  and  a  neighbor's)  and 
the  knowledge  of  every  body  around,  their  kindness  of  heart, 
and  simplicity,  and  love  of  their  neighbor's  doings,  —  all  these 
could  not  help  or  please  me  at  all,  and  many  of  them  were 
much  against  me,  in  my  secret  depth  of  longing,  and  dark 
tumult  of  the  mind.  Many  people  may  think  me  foolish, 
especially  after  coming  from  London,  where  many  nice  maids 
looked  at  me  (on  account  of  my  bulk  and  stature)  and  I  might 
have  been  fitted  up  with  a  sweetheart,  in  spite  of  my  west- 
country  twang,  and  the  smallness  of  my  purse ;  if  only  I  had 
said  the  word.  But  nay ;  I  have  contempt  for  a  man  whose 
heart  is  like  a  shirt-stud  (such  as  I  saw  in  London  cards),  fitted 
into  one  to-day,  sitting  bravely  on  the  breast;  plucked  out  on 
the  morrow  morn,  and  the  place  that  knew  it,  gone. 

Now,  what  did  I  do  but  take  my  chance ;  reckless  whether 
any  one  heeded  me  or  not,  only  craving  Lorna's  heed,  and  time 
for  ten  words  to  her.  Therefore  I  left  the  men  of  tlie  farm  as 
far  away  as  might  be,  after  making  them  work  with  me  (which 
no  man  round  our  parts  could  do,  to  his  own  satisfaction)  a,nd 


JOHN  UAS   HOPE   OF  LORN  A.  185 

then  knowing  them  to  be  well  weary,  very  unlike  to  follow  me 

—  and  still  more  unlike  to  tell  of  me,  for  each  had  his  London 
present  —  I  strode  right  away,  in  good  trust  of  my  speed,  with- 
out any  more  misgivings ;  but  resolved  to  face  the  "worst  of  it, 
and  to  try  to  be  home  for  supper. 

And  first  I  went,  I  know  not  why,  to  the  crest  of  the  broken 
highland,  whence  I  had  agreed  to  watch  for  any  mark  or  signal. 
And  sure  enough  at  last  I  saw  (when  it  was  too  late  to  see)  that 
the  white  stone  had  been  covered  over  with  a  cloth  or  mantle, 

—  the  sign  that  something  had  arisen  to  make  Lorna  want  me. 
For  a  moment,  I  stood  amazed  at  my  evil  fortune  5  that  I  should 
be  too  late,  in  the  very  thing  of  all  things  on  which  my  heart 
was  set !  Then  after  eying  sorrowfully  every  crick  and  cranny, 
to  be  sure  that  not  a  single  flutter  of  my  love  was  visible,  off 
I  set,  with  small  respect  either  for  my  knees  or  neck,  to  make 
the  round  of  the  outer  cliffs,  and  come  up  my  old  access. 

Nothing  could  stop  me;  it  was  not  long,  although  to  me  it 
seemed  an  age,  before  I  stood  in  the  niche  of  rock  at  the  head 
of  the  slippery  watercourse,  and  gazed  into  the  quiet  glen, 
where  my  foolish  heart  was  dwelling.  Notwithstanding  doubts 
of  right,  notwithstanding  sense  of  duty,  and  despite  all  manly 
striving,  and  the  great  love  of  my  home,  there  my  heart  was 
ever  dwelling,  knowing  what  a  fool  it  w^as,  and  content  to 
know  it. 

Many  birds  came  twittering  round  me  in  the  gold  of  August ; 
many  trees  showed  twinkling  beauty,  as  the  sun  went  lower ; 
and  the  lines  of  water  fell,  from  wrinkles  into  dimples.  Little 
heeding,  there  I  crouched;  though  w^ith  sense  of  every  thing 
that  afterwards  should  move  me,  like  a  picture  or  a  dream; 
and  every  thing  w^ent  by  me  softly,  while  my  heart  was  gazing. 

At  last,  a  little  figure  came,  not  insignificant  (I  mean),  but 
looking  very  light  and  slender  in  the  moving  shadows,  gently 
here  and  softly  there,  as  if  vague  of  purpose,  with  a  gloss  of 
tender  movement,  in  and  out  the  wealth  of  trees,  and  liberty 
of  the  meadow.  Who  was  I  to  crouch,  or  doubt,  or  look  at 
her  from  a  distance ;  what  matter  if  they  killed  me  now,  an 
one  tear  came  to  bury  me  ?  Therefore  I  rushed  out  at  once, 
as  if  shot-guns  were  unknown  yet;  not  from  any  real  courage, 
but  from  prisoned  love  burst  forth. 

I  know^  not  whether  my  own  Lorna  was  afraid  of  what  I 
looked,  or  what  I  might  say  to  her,  or  of  her  own  thoughts  of 
me :  all  I  know  is  that  she  looked  frightened,  when  I  hoped 
for  gladness.  Perhaps  the  power  of  my  joy  was  more  than 
maiden  liked  to  own,  or  in  any  way  to  answer  to;  and  to  tell 


186  LORN  A   BOONE. 

the  truth,  it  seemed  as  if  I  might  now  forget  myself;  while 
she  would  take  good  care  of  it.  This  makes  a  man  grow 
thoughtful;  unless  as  some  low  fellows  do,  he  believe  all 
women  hypocrites. 

Therefore  I  went  slowly  towards  her,  taken  back  in  my 
impulse ;  and  said  all  I  could  come  to  say,  with  some  distress 
in  doing  it. 

"Mistress  Lorna,  1  had  hope  that  you  were  in  need  of  me." 

"Oh,  yes;  but  that  was  long  ago;  two  months  ago,  or 
more,  sir."  And  saying  this  she  looked  away,  as  if  it  all 
were  over.  But  I  was  now  so  dazed  and  frightened,  that  it 
took  my  breath  away,  and  1  could  not  answer,  feeling  sure 
that  I  was  robbed,  and  some  one  else  had  won  her.  And  I 
tried  to  turn  away,  without  another  word,  and  go. 

But  I  could  not  help  one  stupid  sob,  though  mad  with  my- 
self for  allowing  it,  but  it  came  too  sharp  for  pride  to  stay  it, 
and  it  told  a  world  of  things.  Lorna  heard  it,  and  ran  to  me, 
with  her  bright  eyes  full  of  wonder,  pity,  and  great  kindness, 
as  if  amazed  that  I  had  more  than  a  simple  liking  for  her.  Then 
she  held  out  both  hands  to  me;  and  I  took  and  looked  at  them. 

"Master  Ridd,  I  did  not  mean,"  she  whispered,  very  softly, 
"  I  did  not  mean  to  vex  you." 

"  If  you  would  be  loth  to  vex  me,  none  else  in  this  world 
can  do  it,"  I  auswered  out  of  my  great  love,  but  fearing  yet 
to  look  at  her,  mine  eyes  not  being  strong  enough. 

"Come  away  from  this  bright  place,"  she  answered,  trem- 
bling in  her  turn;  "I  am  watched  and  spied  of  late.  Come 
beneath  the  shadows,  John." 

I  would  have  leaped  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death 
(as  described  by  the  late  John  Bunyan),  only  to  hear  her  call 
me  "John;  "  though  A^^ollyon  were  lurking  there,  and  Despair 
should  lock  me  in. 

She  stole  across  the  silent  grass;  but  I  strode  hotly  after 
her ;  fear  was  all  beyond  me  now,  except  the  fear  of  losing  her. 
I  could  not  but  beliold  her  manner,  as  she  went  before  me,  all 
her  grace,  and  lovely  sweetness,  and  her  sense  of  what  she  was. 

She  led  me  to  her  own  rich  bower,  which  I  told  of  once 
before;  and  if  in  spring  it  were  a  sight,  what  was  it  m 
summer  glory?  But  although  my  mind  had  notice  of  its  fair- 
ness and  its  wonder,  not  a  heed  my  heart  took  of  it,  neither 
dwelt  it  in  my  presence  more  than  flowing  water.  All  that 
in  my  presence  dwelt,  all  that  in  my  heart  was  felt,  was  the 
maiden  moving  gently,  and  afraid  to  look  at  me. 

For  now  the  power  of  my  love  was  abiding  on  her,  new  to 


JOHN   HAS   HOPE   OF  LORN  A.  187 

her,  unknown  to  her;  not  a  thing  to  speak  about,  nor  even  to 
think  clearly;  only  just  to  feel  and  wonder,  with  a  pain  of 
sweetness.  She  could  look  at  me  no  more,  neither  could  she 
look  away,  with  a  studied  manner  —  only  to  let  fall  her  eyes, 
and  blush,  and  be  put  out  with  me,  and  still  more  with 
herself. 

I  left  her  quite  alone;  though  close,  though  tingling  to  have 
hold  of  her.  Even  her  right  hand  was  dropped,  and  lay  among 
the  mosses.  Neither  did  I  try  to  steal  one  glimpse  below  her 
eyelids.  Life  and  death  were  lianging  on  the  first  glance  I 
should  win;  yet  I  let  it  be  so. 

After  long  or  short  —  I  know  not,  yet  ere  I  was  weary,  ere 
I  yet  began  to  think  or  wish  for  any  answer  —  Lorna  slowly 
raised  her  eyelids,  with  a  gleam  of  dew  below  them,  and  looked 
at  me  doubtfully.  Any  look  with  so  much  in  it  never  met  my 
gaze  before. 

"  Darling,  do  you  love  me  ? "  was  all  that  I  could  say 
to  her. 

"Yes,  I  like  you  very  much,"  she  answered,  with  her  eyes 
gone  from  me,  and  her  dark  hair  falling  over,  so  as  not  to 
show  me  things. 

"But  do  you  love  me,  Lorna,  Lorna;  do  you  love  me  more 
than  all  the  world  ?  " 

"  No,  to  be  sure  not.     Now  why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Li  truth,  I  know  not  why  you  should.  Only  I  hoped  that 
you  did,  Lorna.  Either  love  me  not  at  all,  or  as  I  love  you, 
for  ever." 

"John,  I  love  you  very  much;  and  1  would  not  grieve  you. 
You  are  the  bravest,  and  the  kindest,  and  the  simplest  of  all 
men  —  I  mean  of  all  people  —  I  like  you  very  much,  Master 
Eidd,  and  I  think  of  you  almost  every  day." 

"  That  Avill  not  do  for  me,  Lorna.  Not  almost  every  day  I 
think,  but  every  instant  of  my  life,  of  you.  For  you  I  would 
give  up  my  home,  my  love  of  all  the  world  beside,  my  duty  to 
my  dearest  ones;  for  you  I  would  give  up  my  life,  and  hope 
of  life  beyond  it.     Do  you  love  me  so  ?  " 

"Not  by  any  means,"  said  Lorna;  "no;  I  like  you  very 
much,  when  you  do  not  talk  so  wildly;  and  I  like  to  see  you 
come  as  if  you  would  fill  our  valle}^  up,  and  I  like  to  think  that 
even  Carver  would  be  nothing  in  your  hands  —  but  as  to  lik- 
ing you  like  that,  what  should  make  it  likely  ?  especially  when 
I  have  made  the  signal,  and  for  some  two  months  or  more,  you 
have  never  even  answered  it!  If  you  like  me  so  ferociously, 
whv  do  you  leave  me  for  other  people  to  do  just  as  they  like 
with  me  ?  " 


188  LORN  A   DO  ONE. 

"  To  do  as  they  like !  Oh,  Lorna,  not  to  make  you  marry 
Carver  ?  " 

"No,  Master  Eidd,  be  not  frightened  so;  it  makes  me  fear 
to  look  at  you." 

"But  you  have  not  married  Carver  yet  ?  Say  quick!  Why 
keep  me  waiting  so  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  have  not,  Master  Eidd.  Should  I  be  here  if 
I  had,  think  you,  and  allowing  you  to  like  me  so,  and  to  hold 
my  hand,  and  make  me  laugh,  as  I  declare  you  almost  do 
sometimes  ?     And  at  other  times  you  frighten  me." 

"Did  they  want  you  to  marry  Carver  ?  Tell  me  all  the 
truth  of  it." 

"Not  yet,  not  yet.  They  are  not  half  so  impetuous  as  you 
are,  John.  I  am  only  just  seventeen,  you  know,  and  who  is 
to  think  of  marrying  ?  But  they  wanted  me  to  give  miy  word, 
and  be  formally  betrothed  to  him  in  the  presence  of  my  grand- 
father. It  seems  that  something  frightened  them.  There  is 
a  youth  named  Charleworth  Doone,  every  one  calls  him 
'Charlie;  '  a  headstrong  and  gay  young  man,  very  gallant  in 
his  looks  and  manner ;  and  my  uncle,  the  Counsellor,  chose  to 
fancy  that  Charlie  looked  at  me  too  much,  coming  by  my  grand- 
father's cottage." 

Here  Lorna  blushed  so  that  I  was  frightened,  and  began  to 
hate  this  Charlie  more,  a  great  deal  more,  than  even  Carver 
Doone. 

"He  had  better  not,"  said  I;  "I  will  fling  him  over  it,  if  he 
dare.  He  shall  see  thee  through  the  roof,  Lorna,  if  at  all  he 
see  thee." 

"  Master  Eidd,  you  are  worse  than  Carver !  I  thought  you 
were  so  kind-hearted.  Well,  they  wanted  me  to  promise,  and 
even  to  swear  a  solemn  oath  (a  thing  I  have  never  done  in  my 
life)  that  I  would  wed  my  eldest  cousin,  this  same  Carver 
Doone,  who  is  twice  as  old  as  I  am,  being  thirty-five  and 
upwards.  That  was  why  I  gave  the  token  that  I  wished  to 
see  you,  Master  Eidd.  They  pointed  out  how  much  it  was 
for  the  peace  of  all  the  family,  and  for  mine  own  benefit;  but 
I  would  not  listen  for  a  moment,  though  the  Counsellor  was 
most  eloquent,  and  my  grandfather  begged  me  to  consider, 
and  Carver  smiled  his  pleasantest,  which  is  a  truly  frightful 
thing.  Then  both  he  and  his  crafty  father  were  for  using 
force  with  me;  but  Sir  Ensor  would  not  hear  of  it;  and  they 
have  put  off  that  extreme,  until  he  shall  be  past  its  knowl- 
edge, or,  at  least,  beyond  preventing  it.  And  now  I  am 
watched,  and  spied,  and  followed,  and  half  my  little  liberty 


JO  UN   HAS   HOPE   OF  LORN  A.  189 

seems  to  be  taken  from  me.  I  could  not  be  here  speaking 
with  you,  even  in  my  own  nook  and  refuge,  but  for  the  aid, 
and  skill,  and  courage  of  dear  little  Gwenny  Carfax.  She  is 
now  my  chief  reliance,  and  through  her  alone  I  hope  to  baffle 
all  my  enemies,  since  others  have  forsaken  me." 

Tears  of  sorrow  and  reproach  were  lurking  in  her  soft  dark 
eyes,  until  in  fewest  words  I  told  her,  that  my  seeming  negli- 
gence was  nothing  but  my  bitter  loss  and  wretched  absence  far 
away;  of  which  I  had  so  vainly  striven  to  give  any  tidings 
without  danger  to  her.  When  she  heard  all  this,  and  saw 
what  I  had  brought  from  London  (which  was  nothing  less 
than  a  ring  of  pearls  with  a  sapphire  in  the  midst  of  them,  as 
pretty  as  could  well  be  found),  she  let  the  gentle  tears  flow 
fast,  and  came  and  sat  so  close  beside  me,  that  I  trembled  like 
a  folded  sheep  at  the  bleating  of  her  lamb.  But  recovering 
comfort  quickly,  without  more  ado,  I  raised  her  left  hand,  and 
observed  it  with  a  nice  regard,  wondering  at  the  small  blue 
veins,  and  curves,  and  tapering  whiteness,  and  the  points  it 
finished  with.  My  wonder  seemed  to  please  her  much,  her- 
self so  Avell  accustomed  to  it,  and  not  fond  of  watching  it. 
And  then,  before  she  could  say  a  word,  or  guess  what  I  was 
up  to,  as  quick  as  ever  I  turned  hand  at  a  bout  of  wrestling, 
on  her  finger  was  my  ring  —  sapphire  for  the  veins  of  blue, 
and  pearls  to  match  white  fingers. 

"  Oh,  you  crafty  Master  Eidd !  "  said  Lorna,  looking  up  at 
me,  and  blushing  now  a  far  brighter  blush  than  when  she 
spoke  of  Charlie;  "I  thought  that  you  were  much  too  simple 
ever  to  do  this  sort  of  thing.  No  wonder  you  can  catch  the 
fish,  as  when  first  I  saw  you." 

"  Have  I  caught  you,  little  fish  ?  Or  must  all  my  life  be 
spent  in  hopeless  angling  for  you  ?  " 

"Keither  one,  nor  the  other,  John!  You  have  not  caught 
me  yet  altogether,  though  I  like  you  dearly,  John;  and  if  you 
will  only  keep  away,  I  shall  like  you  more  and  more.  As  for 
hopeless  angling,  John  —  that  all  others  shall  have  until  I  tell 
you  otherwise." 

AVith  the  large  tears  in  her  eyes  —  tears  which  seemed  to 
me  to  rise  partly  from  her  want  to  love  me  with  the  power  of 
my  love  —  she  put  her  pure  bright  lips,  half  smiling,  half 
prone  to  reply  to  tears,  against  my  forehead  lined  with 
trouble,  doubt,  and  eager  longing.  And  then  she  drew  my 
ring  from  off  that  snowy  twig  her  finger,  and  held  it  out  to 
me;  and  then,  seeing  how  my  face  was  falling,  thrice  she 
touched    it  with  her   lips,   and  sweetly  gave  it  back  to   me. 


190  LORN  A    BOONE. 

"John,  I  dare  not  take  it  now;  else  I  should  be  cheating  you. 
I  will  try  to  love  you  dearly,  even  as  you  deserve  and  wish. 
Keep  it  for  me  just  till  then.  Something  tells  me  I  shall  earn 
it,  in  a  very  little  time.  Perhaps  you  will  be  sorry  then, 
sorry  when  it  is  all  too  late,  to  be  loved  by  such  as  I  am." 

What  could  I  do  at  her  mournful  tone,  but  kiss  a  thousand 
times  the  hand  which  she  put  up  to  warn  me,  and  vow  that  I 
would  rather  die  with  one  assurance  of  her  love,  than  without 
it  live  for  ever,  with  all  beside  that  the  world  could  give  ? 
Upon  this  she  looked  so  lovely,  with  her  dark  eyelashes 
trembling,  and  her  soft  eyes  full  of  light,  and  the  color  of 
clear  sunrise  mounting  on  her  cheeks  and  brow,  that  I  was 
forced  to  turn  away,  being  overcome  with  beauty. 

"Dearest  darling,  love  of  my  life,"  I  whispered  through  her 
clouds  of  hair;  "how  long  must  I  wait  to  know,  how  long 
must  I  linger  doubting  whether  you  can  ever  stoop  from  your 
birth  and  wondrous  beauty  to  a  poor  coarse  hind  like  me,  an 
ignorant  unlettered  yeoman  " 

"I  will  not  have  you  revile  yourself,"  said  Lorna,  very  ten- 
derly —  just  as  I  had  meant  to  make  her.  "  You  are  not  rude 
and  unlettered,  John.  You  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do : 
you  have  learned  both  Greek  and  Latin,  as  you  told  me  long 
ago,  and  you  have  been  at  the  very  best  school  in  the  West  of 
England.  None  of  us  but  my  grandfather,  and  the  Coun- 
sellor (who  is  a  great  scholar),  can  compare  with  you  in  this. 
And  though  I  have  laughed  at  your  manner  of  speech,  I  only 
laughed  in  fun,  John;  I  never  meant  to  vex  you  by  it,  nor 
knew  that  I  had  done  so." 

"Nought  you  say  can  vex  me,  dear,"  I  answered,  as  she 
leaned  towards  me,  in  her  generous  sorrow;  "unless  you  say, 
'Begone,  John  Ridd;  I  love  another  more  than  you.^  " 

"  Then  I  shall  never  vex  you,  John.  Never,  I  mean,  by 
saying  that.     Now,  John,  if  you  please,  be  quiet " 

For  I  was  carried  away  so  much,  by  hearing  her  call  me 
"  John  "  so  often,  and  the  music  of  her  voice,  and  the  way  she 
bent  toward  me,  and  the  shadow  of  soft  weeping  in  the  sun- 
light of  her  eyes,  that  some  of  my  great  hand  was  creeping  in 
a  manner  not  to  be  imagined,  and  far  less  explained,  toward 
the  lithesome,  wholesome  curving  underneath  her  mantle-fold, 
and  out  of  sight  and  harm,  as  I  thought;  not  being  her  front 
waist.  However,  I  was  dashed  with  that,  and  pretended  not 
to  mean  it;  only  to  pluck  some  lady-fern,  whose  elegance  did 
me  no  good. 

"Now,  John,"  said  Lorna,  being  so  quick  that  not  even  a 


REAPING   LEADS    TO  BEV ELLIN G.  191 

lover  could  cheat  her,  and  observing  m}-  confusion  more  in- 
tently than  she  need  have  done.  "Master  »Tohn  Ridd,  it  is 
high  time  for  you  to  go  liome  to  your  mother.  1  love  your 
mother  very  much,  from  what  you  have  told  me  about  her, 
and  I  will  not  have  her  cheated." 

"If  you  truly  love  my  mother,"  said  I,  very  craftily,  "the 
only  way  to  show  it  is  by  truly  loving  me." 

Upon  that,  she  laughed  at  me  in  the  sweetest  manner,  and 
with  such  provoking  ways,  and  such  come-and-go  of  glances, 
and  beginning  of  quick  blushes,  which  she  tried  to  laugh 
away;  that  I  knew,  as  well  as  if  she  herself  had  told  me,  by 
some  knowledge  (void  of  reasoning,  and  the  surer  for  it),  I 
knew  quite  well,  while  all  my  heart  was  burning  hot  within 
me,  and  mine  eyes  were  shy  of  hers,  and  her  eyes  were  shy 
of  mine;  for  certain  and  for  ever  this  I  knew  —  as  in  a  glory 
—  that  Lorna  Doone  had  now  begun,  and  would  go  on,  to 
love  me. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELLING. 

Although  I  was  under  interdict  for  two  months  from  my 
darling  —  "one  for  your  sake,  one  for  mine,"  she  had  whis- 
pered, with  her  head  withdrawn,  yet  not  so  very  far  from  me 
—  lighter  heart  was  not  on  Exmoor  than  I  bore  for  half  the 
time,  and  even  for  three  quarters.  For  she  was  safe;  I  knew 
that  daily  by  a  mode  of  signals,  well-contrived  between  us 
now,  on  the  strength  of  our  experience.  "  I  have  nothing  now 
to  fear,  John, "  she  had  said  to  me,  as  we  parted ;  "  it  is  true 
that  I  am  spied  and  watched,  but  Gwenny  is  too  keen  for  them. 
While  I  have  my  grandfather  to  prevent  all  violence;  and 
little  Gwenny  to  keep  watch  on  those  who  try  to  watch  me ; 
and  you  above  all  others,  John,  ready  at  a  moment,  if  tl^e 
worst  comes  to  the  worst  —  this  neglected  Lorna  Doone  .was 
never  in  such  case  before.  Therefore  do  not  squeeze  my  hand, 
John;  I  am  safe  without  it,  and  you  do  not  know  your 
strength." 

Ah,  I  knew  my  strength  right  well.  Hill  and  valley 
scarcely  seemed  to  be  step  and  landing  for  me ;  fiercest  cattle 
I  would  play  with,  making  them  go  backward,  and  afraid  of 
hurting  them,   like   John  Fry  with   his  terrier;   even  rooted 


192  LOBNA   DOONE. 

trees  seemed  to  me  but  as  sticks  I  could  smite  down,  except 
for  my  love  of  every  thing.  The  love  of  all  things  was  upon 
me,  and  a  softness  to  them  all,  and  a  sense  of  having  some- 
thing even  such  as  they  had. 

Then  the  golden  harvest  came,  waving  on  the  broad  hill- 
side, and  nestling  in  the  quiet  nooks  scooped  from  out  the 
fringe  of  wood.  A  wealth  of  harvest,  such  as  never  glad- 
dened all  our  country-side  since  my  father  ceased  to  reap,  and 
his  sickle  hung  to  rust.  There  had  not  been  a  man  on  Exmoor 
fit  to  work  that  reaping-hook,  since  the  time  its  owner  fell, 
in  the  prime  of  life  and  strength,  before  a  sterner  reaper. 
But  now  I  took  it  from  the  wall,  where  mother  proudly  stored 
it,  while  she  watched  me,  hardly  knowing  whether  she  should 
smile  or  cry.    • 

All  the  parish  was  assembled  in  our  upper  courtyard;  for 
we  were  to  open  the  harvest  that  year,  as  had  been  settled 
with  Farmer  Nicholas,  and  with  Jasper  Kebby,  who  held  the 
third  or  little  farm.  We  started  in  proper  order,  therefore, 
as  our  practice  is :  first,  the  parson,  Josiah  Bowden,  wearing 
his  gown  and  cassock,  with  the  parish  Bible  in  his  hand,  and 
a  sickle  strapped  behind  him.  As  he  strode  along  well  and 
stoutly,  being  a  man  of  substance,  all  our  family  came  next,  I 
leading  mother  with  one  hand,  in  the  other  bearing  my  father's 
hook,  and  with  a  loaf  of  our  own  bread  and  a  keg  of  cider  upon 
my  back.  Behind  us  Annie  and  Lizzie  walked,  wearing 
wreaths  of  corn-flowers,  set  out  very  prettily,  such  as  mother 
would  have  worn,  if  she  had  been  a  farmer's  wife,  instead  of  a 
farmer's  widow.  Being  as  she  was,  she  had  no  adornment, 
except  that  her  widow's  hood  was  off,  and  her  hair  allowed  to 
flow,  as  if , she  had  been  a  maiden;  and  very  rich  bright  hair 
it  was,  in  spite  of  all  her  troubles. 

After  us,  the  maidens  came,  milkmaids  and  the  rest  of  them, 
with  Betty  Muxworthy  at  their  head,  scolding  even  now, 
because  they  would  not  walk  fitly.  But  they  only  laughed  at 
her;  and  she  knew  it  was  no  good  to  scold,  with  all  the  men 
behind  them. 

Then  the  Snowes  came  trooping  forward;  Farmer  Nicholas 
in  the  middle,  walking  as  if  he  would  rather  walk  to  a  wheat- 
field  of  his  own,  yet  content  to  follow  lead,  because  he  knew 
himself  the  leader;  and  signing  every  now  and  then  to  the 
people  here  and  there,  as  if  I  were  nobody.  But  to  see  his 
three  great  daughters,  strong  and  handsome  wenches,  making 
upon  either  side,  as  if  somebody  would  run  off  with  them  — 
this  was  the  very  thing  that  taught  me  how  to  value  Lorna, 
and  her  pure  simplicity. 


HEAPING  LEADS   TO  BEVELLING.  193 

After  the  Snowes,  came  Jasper  Kebby,  with  his  wife  new- 
married;  and  a  very  honest  pair  they  were,  upon  only  a  hun- 
dred acres,  and  a  right  of  common.  After  these  the  men  came 
hotly,  without  decent  order,  trying  to  spy  the  girls  in  front, 
and  make  good  jokes  about  them,  at  which  their  wives  laughed 
heartily,  being  jealous  when  alone  perhaps.  And  after  these 
men  and  their  wives  came  all  the  children  toddling,  picking 
flowers  by  the  way,  and  chattering  and  asking  questions,  as 
the  children  will.  There  must  have  been  threescore  of  us, 
take  one  with  another;  and  the  lane  was  full  of  people.  When 
we  were  come  to  the  big  field-gate,  where  the  first  sickle  was 
to  be.  Parson  Bowden  heaved  up  the  rail  with  the  sleeves  of 
his  gown  done  green  with  it;  and  he  said  that  every  body 
might  hear  him,  though  his  breath  was  short,  "  In  the  name  of 
the  Lord,  Amen!  " 

"Amen!  So  be  it!  "  cried  the  clerk,  who  was  far  behind, 
being  only  a  shoemaker. 

Then  Parson  Bowden  read  some  verses  from  the  parish 
Bible,  telling  us  to  lift  up  our  eyes,  and  look  upon  the  fields 
already  white  to  harvest;  and  then  he  laid  the  Bible  down  on 
the  square  head  of  the  gate-post,  and  despite  his  gown  and 
cassock,  three  good  swipes  he  cut  of  corn,  and  laid  them  right 
end  onwards.  All  this  time  the  rest  were  huddling  outside  the 
gate,  and  along  the  lane,  not  daring  to  interfere  with  parson, 
but  whispering  how  well  he  did  it. 

When  he  had  stowed  the  corn  like  that,  mother  entered, 
leaning  on  me,  and  we  both  said,  "  Thank  the  Lord  for  all  His 
mercies,  and  tiiese  the  first  fruits  of  His  hand!  "  And  then  the 
clerk  gave  out  a  psalm  verse  by  verse,  done  very  well;  although 
he  sneezed  in  the  midst  of  it,  from  a  beard  of  wheat  thrust  up 
his  nose  by  the  rival  cobbler  at  Brendon.  And  when  the 
psalm  was  sung,  so  strongly  that  the  foxgloves  on  the  bank 
were  shaking,  like  a  chime  of  bells,  at  it,  parson  took  a  stoop 
of  cider  and  we  all  fell  to  at  reaping. 

Of  course  I  mean  the  men,  not  women ;  although  I  know  that 
up  the  country,  w^omen  are  allowed  to  reap;  and  right  well 
they  reap  it,  keeping  row  for  row  w^th  men,  comely,  and  in 
due  order;  yet,  meseems,  the  men  must  ill  attend  to  their  own 
reaping-hooks,  in  fear  lest  the  other  cut  themselves,  being  the 
weaker  vessel.  But  in  our  part,  women  do  what  seems  their 
proper  business,  following  well  behind  the  men,  out  of  harm 
of  the  swinging-hook,  and  stooping  with  their  breasts  and 
arms  up  they  catch  the  swathes  of  corn,  where  the  reapers 
cast  them,  and  tucking  them  together  tightly  with  a  wisp  laid 

VOL.  I. — 13 


194  LORNA  BOONE. 

under  them,  this  they  fetch  around  and  twist,  with  a  knee  lo 
keep  it  close ;  and  lo,  there  is  a  goodly  sheaf,  ready  to  set  up 
in  stooks !  After  these  the  children  come,  gathering  each  for 
his  little  self,  if  the  farmer  be  right-minded;  until  each  hath 
a  bundle  made  as  big  as  himself  and  longer,  and  tumbles  now 
and  again  with  it,  in  the  deeper  part  of  the  stubble. 

We,  the  men,  kept  marching  onwards  down  the  flank  of  the 
yellow  wall,  with  knees  bent  wide,  and  left  arm  bowed,  and 
right  arm  flashing  steel.  Each  man  in  his  several  place,  keep- 
ing down  the  rig  or  chine,  on  the  right  side  of  the  reaper  in 
front,  and  the  left  of  the  man  that  followed  him ;  each  making 
further  sweep  and  inroad  into  the  golden  breadth  and  depth, 
each  casting  leftwards  his  rich  clearance  on  his  foregoer's 
double  track. 

So  like  half  a  wedge  of  wildfowl,  to  and  fro  we  swept  the 
field;  and  when  to  either  hedge  we  came,  sickles  wanted 
whetting,  and  throats  required  moistening,  and  backs  were  in 
need  of  easing,  and  every  man  had  much  to  say,  and  women 
wanted  praising.  Then  all  returned  to  the  other  end,  with  reap- 
ing-hooks beneath  our  arms,  and  dogs  left  to  mind  jackets. 

But  now,  will  you  believe  me  well,  or  will  you  only  laugh 
at  me  ?  For  even  in  the  world  of  wheat,  when  deep  among 
the  varnished  crispness  of  the  jointed  stalks,  and  below  the 
feathered  yielding  of  the  graceful  heads,  even  as  I  gripped  the 
swathes  and  swept  the  sickle  round  them,  even  as  I  flung  them 
by  to  rest  on  brother  stubble,  through  the  whirling  yellow 
world,  and  eagerness  of  reaping,  came  the  vision  of  my  love, 
as  with  downcast  eyes  she  wondered  at  my  power  of  passion. 
And  then  the  sweet  remembrance  glowed,  brighter  than  the 
sun  through  wheat,  through  my  very  depth  of  heart,  of  how 
she  raised  those  beaming  eyes,  and  ripened  in  my  breast  rich 
hope.  Even  now  I  could  descry,  like  high  waves  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  rounded  heads  and  folded  shadows  of  the  wood  of 
Bagworthy.  Perhaps  she  was  walking  in  the  valley,  and  softly 
gazing  up  at  them.  Oh,  to  be  a  bird  just  there!  I  could  see 
a  bright  mist  hanging  just  above  the  Doone  Glen.  Perhaps 
it  was  shedding  its  drizzle  upon  her.  Oh,  to  be  a  drop  of 
rain !  The  very  breeze  which  bowed  the  harvest  to  my  bosom 
gently,  might  have  come  direct  from  Lorna,  with  her  sweet 
voice  laden.  Ah,  the  flaws  of  air  that  wander  where  they 
will  around  her,  fan  her  bright  cheek,  play  with  lashes,  even 
revel  in  her  hair  and  reveal  her  beauties  —  man  is  but  a 
breath,  we  know,  would  I  were  such  breath  as  that! 

But  confound  it,  while  I  ponder,  with  delicious  dreams  sus- 


REAPING  LEADS   TO  BEVELLING.  195 

pended,  with  my  right  arm  hanging  frustrate  and  the  giant 
sickle  drooped,  with  my  left  arm  bowed  for  clasping  something 
more  germane  than  wheat,  and  my  eyes  not  minding  business, 
but  intent  on  distant  woods,  —  confound  it,  what  are  the  men 
about,  and  why  am  I  left  vaporing  ?  They  have  taken  advan- 
tage of  me,  the  rogues !  They  are  gone  to  the  hedge  for  the 
cider-jars;  they  have  had  up  the  sledd  of  bread  and  meat, 
quite  softly  over  the  stubble,  and  if  I  can  believe  my  eyes  (so 
dazed  with  Lorna's  image),  they  are  sitting  down  to  an  excel- 
lent dinner,  before  the  church  clock  has  gone  eleven! 

"  John  Fry,  you  big  villain !  "  I  cried,  with  John  hanging 
up  in  the  air  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck-cloth,  but  holding  still 
by  his  knife  and  fork,  and  a  goose-leg  in  between  his  lips, 
"  John  Fry,  what  mean  you  by  this,  sir  ?  " 

"Latt  me  dowun,  or  I  can't  tell  'e,"  John  answered,  with 
some  difficulty.  So  I  let  him  come  down,  and  I  must  confess 
that  he  had  reason  on  his  side.  "Please  your  worship"  — 
John  called  me  so,  ever  since  I  returned  from  London,  firmly 
believing  that  the  King  had  made  me  a  magistrate  at  least; 
though  I  was  to  keep  it  secret  —  "  us  zeed  as  how  your  worship 
were  took  with  thinkin'  of  King's  business,  in  the  middle  of 
the  whate-rigg;  and  so  us  zed,  'Latt  un  coom  to  his  zell,  us 
had  better  zave  taime,  by  takking  our  dinner;  '  and  here  us 
be,  plaise  your  worship,  and  hopps  no  offence  with  thick  iron 
spoon  full  of  vried  taties." 

I  was  glad  enough  to  accept  the  ladle  full  of  fried  batatas, 
and  to  make  the  best  of  things,  which  is  generally  done  by  let- 
ting men  have  their  own  way.  Therefore  I  managed  to  dine 
with  them,  although  it  was  so  early. 

For  according  to  all  that  I  can  find,  in  a  long  life  and  a 
varied  one,  twelve  o'clock  is  the  real  time  for  a  man  to  have 
his  dinner.  Then  the  sun  is  at  his  noon,  calling  halt  to  look 
around,  and  then  the  plants  and  leaves  are  turning,  each  with 
a  little  leisure  time,  before  the  work  of  the  afternoon.  Then 
is  the  balance  of  east  and  west,  and  then  the  right  and  left 
side  of  a  man  are  in  due  proportion,  and  contribute  fairly  with 
harmonious  fluids.  And  the  health  of  this  mode  of  life,  and 
its  reclaiming  virtue  are  well  set  forth  in  our  ancient 
rhyme,  — 

'♦  Sunrise,  breakfast ;  sun  high,  dinner  ; 
Sundown,  sup  ;  makes  a  saint  of  a  sinner." 

Whish,  the  wheat  falls!  Whirl  again;  ye  have  had  good 
dinners;  give  your  master  and  mistress  plenty  to  supply  an- 


196  LOBNA  BOONE, 

other  year.  And  in  truth  we  did  reap  well  and  fairly,  through 
the  whole  of  that  afternoon,  I  not  only  keeping  lead,  but  keep- 
ing the  men  up  to  it.  We  got  through  a  matter  of  ten  acres, 
ere  the  sun  between  the  shocks,  broke  his  light  on  wheaten 
plumes,  then  hung  his  red  cloak  on  the  clouds,  and  fell  into 
gray  slumber. 

Seeing  this  we  wiped  our  sickles,  and  our  breasts  and  fore- 
heads, and  soon  were  on  the  homeward  road,  looking  forward 
to  good  supper. 

Of  course  all  the  reapers  came  at  night  to  the  harvest- 
supper,  and  Parson  Bowden  to  say  the  grace,  as  well  as  to  help 
to  carve  for  us.  And  some  help  was  needed  there,  I  can  well 
assure  you;  for  the  reapers  had  brave  appetites,  and  most  of 
their  wives  having  babies  were  forced  to  eat  as  a  duty. 
Neither  failed  they  of  this  duty;  cut  and  come  again  was  the 
order  of  the  evening,  as  it  had  been  of  the  day;  and  I  had  no 
time  to  ask  questions,  but  help  meat  and  ladle  gravy.  All 
the  while  our  darling  Annie,  with  her  sleeves  tucked  up,  and 
her  comely  ligure  panting,  was  running  about  Avith  a  bucket 
of  taties  mashed  with  lard  and  cabbage.  Even  Lizzie  had  left 
her  books,  and  was  serving  out  beer  and  cider;  while  mother 
helped  plum-pudding  largely  on  pewter  plates  with  the  mutton. 
And  all  the  time,  Betty  Muxworthy  was  grunting  in  and  out 
everywhere,  not  having  space  to  scold  even,  but  changing  the 
dishes,  serving  the  meat,  poking  the  fire,  and  cooking  more. 
But  John  Fry  would  not  stir  a  peg,  except  with  his  knife  and 
fork,  having  all  the  airs  of  a  visitor,  and  his  wife  to  keep  him 
eating,  till  I  thought  there  would  be  no  end  of  it. 

Then  having  eaten  all  they  could,  they  prepared  themselves, 
with  one  accord,  for  the  business  now  of  drinking.  But  first 
they  lifted  the  neck  of  corn,  dressed  with  ribbons  gaily,  and 
set  it  upon  the  mantel-piece,  each  man  with  his  iiorn  a-froth ; 
and  then  they  sang  a  song  about  it,  every  one  shouting  in  the 
chorus  louder  than  harvest  thunderstorm.  Some  were  in  the 
middle  of  one  verse,  and  some  at  the  end  of  the  next  one ;  yet 
somehow  all  managed  to  get  together  in  the  mighty  roar  of  the 
burden.  And  if  any  farmer  up  the  country  would  like  to 
know  Exmoor  harvest-song,  as  sung  in  my  time,  and  will  be 
sung  long  after  I  am  garnered  home,  lo  here  I  set  it  down  for 
him,  omitting  only  the  dialect,  which  perchance  might  puzzle 
him. 


REAPING  LEADS    TO   BEVELLING.  197 


EXMOOR   HARVEST-SONG. 

1. 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  com  ! 
Go  unto  the  door,  my  lad,  and  look  beneath  the  moon. 
Thou  canst  see,  beyond  the  woodrick,  how  it  is  yelloon : 

'Tis  the  harvesting  of  wheat,  and  the  barley  must  be  shorn. 

{Chorus.) 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  corn  ! 

Here's  to  the  corn,  with  the  cups  upon  the  board  ! 
We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we'll  reap  again  the  morn, 

And  fetch  it  home  to  mow-yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

2. 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  wheat  1 
All  the  day  it  has  been  hanging  down  its  heavy  head, 
Bowing  over  on  our  bosoms  with  a  beard  of  red  : 

'Tis  the  harvest,  and  the  value  makes  the  labor  sweet. 

(  Chorus.) 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  and  the  golden,  golden  wheat ! 

Here's  to  the  wheat,  with  the  loaves  upon  the  board ! 
We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we  never  will  be  beat. 

But  fetch  it  all  to  mow-yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

3. 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  is  in  prime ! 
All  the  day  it  has  been  rusthng  with  its  bristles  brown. 
Waiting  with  its  beard  abowing,  till  it  can  be  mown  ! 

'Tis  the  harvest  and  the  barley  must  abide  its  time. 

(Chorus.) 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  ruddy  brown  ! 

Here's  to  the  barley,  with  the  beer  upon  the  board  ! 
We'll  go  amowing,  soon  as  ever  all  the  wheat  is  down  ; 

When  all  is  in  the  mow-yard,  we'll  stop,  and  thank  the  Lord. 

4. 

The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  oats  ! 

All  the  day  they  have  been  dancing  with  their  flakes  of  white, 
Waiting  for  the  girding-hook,  to  be  the  nags'  delight: 

'Tis  the  harvest,  let  them  dangle  in  their  skirted  coats. 

(Chorals.) 

The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  and  the  silver,  silver  oats  ! 

Here's  to  the  oats  with  the  backstone  on  the  board  ! 
We'll  go  among  them,  when  the  barley  has  been  laid  in  rotes  ; 

When  all  is  home  to  mow-yard,  we'll  kneel  and  thank  the  Lord. 


198  LORNA   IJOONE. 


The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  blessing  of  the  corn  ! 

Come  unto  the  door,  my  lads,  and  look  beneath  the  moon, 
We  can  see,  on  hill  and  valley,  how  it  is  yelloon, 

With  a  breadth  of  glory,  as  when  our  Lord  was  born. 

(  Chorus. ) 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  corn ! 

Thanks  for  the  corn,  with  our  bread  upon  the  board  ! 
So  shall  we  acknowledge  it,  before  we  reap  the  morn, 

With  our  hands  to  heaven,  and  our  knees  unto  the  Lord. 

Now  we  sang  this  song  very  well  the  first  time,  having  the 
parish  choir  to  lead  us,  and  the  clarionet,  and  the  parson  to 
give  us  the  time  with  his  cup ;  and  we  sang  it  again  the  second 
time,  not  so  but  what  you  might  praise  it  (if  you  had  been 
with  us  all  the  evening),  although  the  parson  Avas  gone  then, 
and  the  clerk  not  fit  to  compare  wuth  liim  in  the  matter  of 
keeping  time.  But  when  that  song  was  in  its  third  singing, 
I  defy  any  man  (however  sober)  to  have  made  out  one  verse 
from  the  other,  or  even  the  burden  from  the  verses,  inasmuch 
as  every  man  present,  ay,  and  woman  too,  sang  as  became  con- 
venient to  them,  in  utterance  both  of  words  and  tune. 

And  in  truth,  there  was  much  excuse  for  them;  because  it 
was  a  noble  harvest,  fit  to  thank  the  Lord  for,  without  His 
thinking  us  hypocrites.  For  we  had  more  land  in  wheat,  that 
year,  than  ever  we  had  before,  and  twice  the  crop  to  the  acre ; 
and  I  could  not  help  now  and  then  remembering,  in  the  midst 
of  the  merriment,  how  my  father  in  the  churchyard  yonder 
would  have  gloried  to  behold  it.  And  my  mother,  who  had 
left  us  now,  happening  to  return  just  then,  being  called  to 
have  her  health  drunk  (for  the  twentieth  time  at  least),  I 
knew  by  the  sadness  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  thinking  just  as 
I  was.  Presently  therefore  I  slipped  away  from  the  noise, 
and  mirth,  and  smoking  (although  of  that  last  there  was  not 
much,  except  from  Farmer  Nicholas),  and  crossing  the  court- 
yard in  the  moonlight,  I  went,  just  to  cool  myself,  as  far  as 
my  father's  tombstone. 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST  OF  IT.  199 

CHAPTER   XXX. 

AXXIE    GETS    THE    BEST    OF    IT. 

I  HAD  long  outgrown  unwholesome  feeling  as  to  my  father's 
death;  and  so  had  Annie;  though  Lizzie  (who  must  have 
loved  him  least)  still  entertained  some  evil  will,  and  longing 
for  a  punishment.  Tlierefore  I  was  surprised  (and  indeed, 
startled  would  not  be  too  much  to  say,  the  moon  being  some- 
what fleecy)  to  see  our  Annie  sitting  there  as  motionless  as  the 
tombstone,  and  with  all  her  best  fal-lals  upon  her,  after  stow- 
ing away  the  dishes. 

My  nerves  however  are  good  and  strong,  except  at  least  in 
love  matters  wherein  they  always  fail  me,  and  when  I  meet 
with  witches;  and  therefore  I  went  up  to  Annie,  although  she 
looked  so  white  and  pure;  for  I  had  seen  her  before  with 
those  things  on,  and  it  struck  me  who  she  was. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Annie?"  I  enquired  rather 
sternly,  being  vexed  with  her  for  having  gone  so  very  near  to 
frighten  me. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  said  our  Annie  shortly.  And  indeed  it 
was  truth  enough  for  a  woman.  Xot  that  I  dare  to  believe 
that  women  are  such  liars  as  men  say ;  only  that  I  mean  they 
often  see  things  round  the  corner,  and  know  not  which  is  which 
of  it.  And  indeed  I  never  have  known  a  woman  (though 
right  enough  in  their  meaning)  purely  and  perfectly  true  and 
transparent,  except  only  my  Lorna;  and  even  so,  I  might  not 
have  loved  her,  if  she  had  been  ugly. 

"Why,  how  so?"  said  T;  "Miss  Annie,  what  business  have 
you  here,  doing  nothing  at  this  time  of  night?  And  leaving 
me  with  all  the  trouble  to  entertain  our  guests !  " 

"You  seem  not  to  me  to  be  doing  it,  John,"  Annie  answered 
softly;  "what  business  have  you  here  doing  nothing,  at  this 
time  of  night?  " 

I  was  taken  so  aback  with  this,  and  the  extreme  impertinence 
of  it,  from  a  mere  young  girl  like  Annie,  that  I  turned  round 
to  march  away  and  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  her.  But  she 
jumped  up,  and  caught  me  by  the  hand,  and  threw  herself 
upon  my  bosom,  with  lier  face  all  wet  with  tears. 

"  Oh  John,  I  Avill  tell  you.  I  will  tell  you.  Only  don't  be 
angry,  John." 

"  Angry!  no  indeed,"  said  I;  "what  right  liave  I  to  be  angry 


200  LORNA   DOO^E. 

with  you,  because  you  have  your  secrets?  Every  chit  of  a  girl 
thinks  now  that  she  has  a  right  to  her  secrets." 

"And  you  have  none  of  your  own,  John;  of  course  you  have 
none  of  your  own?     All  your  going  out  at  night " 

"We  will  not  quarrel  here,  poor  Annie,"  I  answered,  with 
some  loftiness;  there  are  many  things  upon  my  mind,  which 
girls  can  have  no  notion  of." 

"  And  so  there  are  upon  mine,  John.  Oh  John,  I  will  tell 
you  every  thing,  if  you  will  look  at  me  kindly,  and  promise  to 
forgive  me.     Oh,  I  am  so  miserable!  " 

Now  this,  though  she  was  behaving  so  badly,  moved  me 
much  towards  her;  especially  as  I  longed  to  know  what  she 
had  to  tell  me.  Therefore  I  allowed  her  to  coax  me,  and  to 
kiss  me,  and  to  lead  me  away  a  little,  as  far  as  the  old  yew- 
tree;  for  she  would  not  tell  me  where  she  was. 

But  even  in  the  shadow  there,  she  was  very  long  before  begin- 
ning, and  seemed  to  have  two  minds  about  it,  or  rather  perhaps 
a  dozen;  and  she  laid  her  cheek  against  the  tree,  and  sobbed 
till  it  was  pitiful;  and  I  knew  what  mother  would  say  to  her, 
for  spoiling  her  best  frock  so. 

"Now  will  you  stop?  "  I  said  at  last,  harder  than  I  meant  it; 
for  I  knew  that  she  would  go  on  all  night,  if  any  one  encour- 
aged her :  and  though  not  well  acquainted  with  women,  I  under- 
stood my  sisters;  or  else  I  must  be  a  born  fool  —  except  of 
course  that  I  never  professed  to  understand  Eliza. 

"Yes,  I  will  stop,"  said  Annie,  panting;  "you  are  very  hard 
on  me,  John ;  but  I  know  you  mean  it  for  the  best.  If  some- 
body else  —  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  who,  and  have  no  right  to 
know  no  doubt,  but  she  must  be  a  wicked  thing  —  if  somebody 
else  had  been  taken  so  with  a  pain  all  round  the  heart,  Jolm, 
and  no  power  of  telling  it,  perhaps  you  would  have  coaxed, 
and  kissed  her,  and  come  a  little  nearer,  and  made  opx^ortunity 
to  be  very  loving." 

Now  this  was  so  exactly  what  I  had  tried  to  do  to  Lorna, 
that  my  breath  was  almost  taken  away  at  Annie's  so  describ- 
ing it.  For  a  while  I  could  not  say  a  Avord,  but  wondered  if 
she  were  a  witch,  which  had  never  been  in  our  family :  and 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  saw  the  way  to  beat  her,  with  the  devil 
at  my  elbow. 

"From  your  knowledge  of  these  things,  Annie,  you  must 
have  had  them  done  to  you.  I  demand  to  know  this  very 
moment  who  has  taken  such  liberties." 

"  Then,  John,  you  shall  never  know,  if  you  ask  in  that  man- 
ner.    Besides  it  was  no  liberty  in  the  least  at  all.     Cousins 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST  OF  IT.  201 

have  a  right  to  do  things  —  and  when  they  are  one's  godfather 

"     Here  Annie  stopped  quite  suddenly,  having  so  betrayed 

herself;  but  met  me  in  the  lull  moonlight,  being  resolved  to 
face  it  out,  with  a  good  face  put  upon  it. 

"Alas,  I  feared  it  would  come  to  this,"  I  answered  very 
sadly;  "I  know  he  has  been  here  many  a  time,  without  show- 
ing himself  to  me.  There  is  nothing  meaner  than  for  a  man 
to  sneak,  and  steal  a  young  maid's  heart,  without  her  people 
knowing  it." 

"  You  are  not  doing  anything  of  that  sort  yourself,  then, 
dear  John,  are  you?" 

"Only  a  common  highwayman!  "  I  answered,  without  heed- 
ing her;  "  a  man  without  an  acre  of  his  own,  and  liable  to  hang 
upon  any  common,  and  no  other  right  of  common  over  it " 

"  John,"  said  my  sister,  "  are  the  Doones  privileged  not  to  be 
hanged  upon  common  land?  " 

At  this  I  was  so  thunderstruck,  that  I  leaped  in  the  air  like 
a  shot  rabbit,  and  rushed  as  hard  as  1  could  through  the  gate 
and  across  the  yard,  and  back  into  the  kitchen;  and  there  T 
asked  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  to  give  me  some  tobacco,  and  to 
lend  me  a  spare  pipe. 

This  he  did  with  a  grateful  manner,  being  now  some  five- 
fourths  gone;  and  so  I  smoked  the  very  first  pipe  that  ever 
had  entered  my  lips  till  then ;  and  beyond  a  doubt  it  did  me 
good,  and  spread  my  heart  at  leisure. 

Meanwhile  the  reapers  were  mostly  gone,  to  be  up  betimes 
in  the  morning;  and  some  were  led  by  their  wives;  and  some 
had  to  lead  their  wives  themselves;  according  to  the  capacity 
of  man  and  Avife  respectively.  But  Betty  was  as  lively  as 
ever,  bustling  about  with  every  one,  and  looking  out  for  the 
chance  of  groats,  which  the  better  off  might  be  free  with.  And 
over  the  kneading-pan,  next  day,  she  dropped  three  and  six- 
pence out  of  her  pocket;  and  Lizzie  could  not  tell  for  her  life 
how  much  more  might  have  been  in  it. 

Xow  by  the  time  I  had  almost  finished  smoking  that  pipe  of 
tobacco,  and  wondering  at  myself  for  having  so  clespised  it 
hitherto,  and  making  up  my  mind  to  have  another  trial  to-mor- 
row night,  it  began  to  occur  to  me  that  although  dear  Annie 
had  behaved  so  very  badly  and  rudely,  and  almost  taken  my 
breath  away  with  the  suddenness  of  her  allusion,  yet  it  was 
not  kind  of  me  to  leave  her  out  there  at  that  time  of  night,  all 
alone,  and  in  such  distress.  Any  of  the  reapers  going  home 
might  be  gotten  so  far  bej'ond  fear  of  ghosts  as  to  venture  into 
the  churchyard;  and  although  they  would  know  a  great  deal 


202  LOBNA    DOOXE. 

better  than  to  insult  a  sister  of  mine  when  sober,  there  was  no 
telling  what  they  might  do  in  their  present  state  of  rejoicing. 
Moreover,  it  was  only  right  that  I  should  learn,  for  Lorna's 
sake,  how  far  Annie,  or  any  one  else,  had  penetrated  our  secret. 

Therefore  I  went  forth  at  once,  bearing  my  pipe  in  a  skilful 
manner,  as  I  had  seen  Farmer  Nicholas  do  ;  and  marking,  with 
a  new  kind  of  pleasure,  how  the  rings  and  wreaths  of  smoke 
hovered  and  fluttered  in  the  moonlight,  like  a  lark  upon  his 
carol.  Poor  Annie  was  gone  back  again  to  our  father's  grave  ; 
and  there  she  sat  upon  the  turf,  sobbing  very  gently,  and  not 
wishing  to  trouble  any  one.  So  I  raised  her  tenderly,  and 
made  much  of  her,  and  consoled  her,  for  I  could  not  scold  her 
there ;  and  perhaps  after  all  she  Avas  not  to  be  blamed  so  much 
as  Tom  Faggus  himself  was.  Annie  was  very  grateful  to  me, 
and  kissed  me  many  times,  and  begged  my  pardon  ever  so  often 
for  her  rudeness  to  me.  And  then  having  gone  so  far  with  it, 
and  finding  me  so  complaisant,  she  must  needs  try  to  go  a  little 
further,  and  to  lead  me  away  from  her  own  affairs,  and  into 
mine  concerning  Lorna.  But  although  it  was  clever  enough  of 
her,  she  was  not  deep  enough  for  me  there ;  and  I  soon  discov- 
ered that  she  knew  nothing,  not  even  the  name  of  my  darling ; 
but  only  suspected  from  things  she  had  seen,  and  put  together 
like  a  woman.  Upon  this  I  brought  her  back  again  to  Tom 
Faggus  and  his  doings. 

"  My  poor  Annie,  have  you  really  promised  him  to  be  his 
wife  ?  " 

"  Then  after  all  j^ou  have  no  reason,  John,  no  particular 
reason  I  mean,  for  slighting  poor  Sally  Snowe  so  ?  " 

"Without  even  asking  mother  or  me  !  Oh,  Annie,  it  was 
wrong  of  you  !  " 

"  But,  darling,  you  know  that  mother  wishes  you  so  much  to 
marry  Sally ;  and  I  am  sure  you  could  have  her  to-morrow. 
She  dotes  on  the  very  ground " 

"  I  dare  say  he  tells  you  that,  Annie,  that  he  dotes  on  the 
ground  you  walk  upon  —  but  did  you  believe  him,  child  ?  " 

"You  may  believe  me,  I  assure  you,  John;  and  half  the 
farm  to  be  settled  upon  her,  after  the  old  man's  time;  and 
though  she  gives  herself  little  airs,  it  is  only  done  to  entice 
you ;  she  has  the  very  best  hand  in  the  dairy,  John,  and  the 
lightest  at  a  turn-over  cake " 

"  Now,  Annie,  don't  talk  nonsense  so.  I  wish  just  to  know 
the  truth  about  you  and  Tom  Faggus.  Do  you  mean  to  marrv 
him  ?  " 

"  I  to  marry  before  my  brother,  and  leave  him  with  none  to 


ANNIE   GETS    THE  BEST   OF  IT.  203 

take  care  of  him !  Who  can  do  him  a  red  deer  collop,  except 
Sally  herself,  as  I  can?  Come  home,  dear,  at  once,  and  I  will 
do  one  for  you;  for  you  never  ate  a  morsel  of  supper,  with  all 
the  people  you  had  to  attend  upon." 

This  was  true  enough;  and  seeing  no  chance  ot  anything 
more  than  cross  questions  and  crooked  purposes,  at  which  a  girl 
was  sure  to  beat  me,  I  even  allowed  her  to  lead  me  home,  with 
the  thoughts  of  the  collop  uppermost.  But  I  never  counted 
upon  being  beaten  so  thoroughly  as  I  was ;  for  knowing  me 
now  to  be  off  my  guard,  the  young  hussy  stopped  at  the  farm- 
yard gate,  as  if  with  a  briar  entangling  her,  and  while  I  was 
stooping  to  take  it  away,  she  looked  me  full  in  the  face  by  the 
moonlight,  and  jerked  out  quite  suddenly, — 

"Can  your  love  do  a  collop,  John?" 

"No,  I  should  hope  not,"  I  answered  rashly;  "she  is  not  a 
mere  cook -maid  I  should  hope." 

"  She  is  not  half  so  pretty  as  Sally  Snowe ;  I  will  answer  for 
that,"  said  Annie. 

"  She  is  ten  thousand  times  as  pretty  as  ten  thousand  Sally 
Snowes,"  I  replied  with  great  indignation.     ' 

"  Oh,  but  look  at  Sally's  eyes !  "  cried  my  sister  rapturously. 

"Look  at  Lorna  Doone's,"  said  I;  "and  you  would  never 
look  again  at  Sally's." 

"Oh,  Lorna  Doone,  Lorna  Doone!"  exclaimed  our  Annie, 
half-frightened,  yet  clapping  her  hands  with  triumph,  at  hav- 
ing found  me  out  so :  "  Lorna  Doone  is  the  lovely  maiden,  who 
has  stolen  poor  somebody's  heart  so.  Ah,  I  shall  remember 
it;  because  it  is  so  queer  a  name.  But  stop,  I  had  better 
write  it  down.     Lend  me  your  hat,  poor  boy,  to  write  on." 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  lend  you  a  box  on  the  ear, "  I  answered 
her  in  my  vexation ;  "  and  I  would,  if  you  had  not  been  crying 
so,  you  sly  good-for-nothing  baggage.  As  it  is,  I  shall  keep  it 
for  Master  Faggus,  and  add  interest  for  keeping." 

"  Oh  no,  John ;  oh  no,  John, "  she  begged  me  earnestly,  being 
sobered  in  a  moment.  "  Your  hand  is  so  terribly  heavy,  John ; 
and  he  never  would  forgive  you;  although  he  is  so  good- 
hearted,  he  cannot  put  up  with  an  insult.  Promise  me,  dear 
John,  that  you  will  not  strike  him;  and  I  will  promise  you 
faithfully  to  keep  your  secret,  even  from  mother,  and  even 
from  Cousin  Tom  himself." 

"And  from  Lizzie;  most  of  all,  from  Lizzie,"  I  answered, 
very  eagerly,  knowing  too  well  which  one  of  my  family  would 
be  hardest  with  me. 

"Of  course  from  little  Lizzie,"  said  Annie,  with  some  con- 


204  LOBNA   DOONE. 

tempt;  "a  young  thing  like  her  cannot  be  kept  too  long,  in 
my  opinion,  from  the  knowledge  of  such  subjects.  And 
besides,  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  Lizzie  had  the  right  to  know 
your  secrets,  as  I  have,  dearest  John.  Not  a  soul  shall  be  the 
wiser  for  your  having  trusted  me,  John;  although  I  shall  be 
very  wretched  when  you  are  late  away  at  night,  among  those 
dreadful  people." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,  Annie. 
You  have  my  secret,  and  I  have  yours;  and  I  scarcely  know 
which  of  the  two  is  likely  to  have  the  worst  time  of  it,  when 
it  comes  to  mother's  ears.  I  could  put  up  with  perpetual  scold- 
ing; but  not  with  mother's  sad  silence." 

"  That  is  exactly  how  I  feel,  John ;  "  and  as  Annie  said  it  she 
brightened  up,  and  her  soft  eyes  shone  upon  me ;  "  but  now  I 
shall  be  much  happier,  dear;  because  I  shall  try  to  help  you. 
No  doubt  the  young  lady  deserves  it,  John.  She  is  not  after 
the  farm,  I  hope !  " 

"She!"  I  exclaimed;  and  that  was  enough;  there  was  so 
much  scorn  in  my  voice  and  face. 

"  Then,  I  am  sure,  I  am  very  glad;  "  Annie  always  made  the 
best  of  things;  "for  I  do  believe  that  Sally  Snowe  has  taken  a 
fancy  to  our  dairy-place,  and  the  pattern  of  our  cream-pans; 
and  she  asked  so  much  about  our  meadows,  and  the  color  of 
the  jnilk " 

"Then,  after  all,  you  were  right,  dear  Annie;  it  is  the 
ground  she  dotes  upon !  " 

"And  the  things  that  walk  upon  it,"  she  answ^ered  me,  with 
another  kiss;  "Sally  has  taken  a  wonderful  fancy  to  our  best 
cow,  'Nipple  pins.'  But  she  never  shall  have  her  now;  what 
a  consolation ! " 

We  entered  the  house  quite  gently  thus,  and  found  farmer 
Nicholas  Snowe  asleep,  little  dreaming  how  his  plans  had  been 
overset  between  us.  And  then  Annie  said  to  me  very  slyly, 
between  a  smile  ^nd  a  blush, — 

"Don't  you  wish  Lorna  Doone  was  here,  John,  in  the  parlor 
along  with  mother;  instead  of  those  tw^o  fashionable  milk- 
maids, as  Uncle  Ben  will  call  them,  and  poor  stupid  Mistress 
Kebby?" 

"  That  indeed  I  do,  Annie.  I  must  kiss  you  for  only  think- 
ing of  it.  Dear  me,  it  seems  as  if  you  had  known  all  about  us 
for  a  twelvemonth." 

"  She  loves  you,  w^ith  all  her  heart,  John.  No  doubt  about 
that  of  course."  And  Annie  looked  up  at  me,  as  much  as  to 
say  she  would  like  to  know  who  could  help  it. 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST   OF  IT.  205 

"That's  the  very  thing  she  won't  do,"  said  I,  knowing  that 
Annie  Avould  love  me  all  the  more  for  it;  ''she  is  only  begin- 
ning to  like  me,  Annie;  and  as  for  loving,  she  is  so  young  that 
she  only  loves  her  grandfather.  But  I  hope  she  will  come  to 
it  by-and-by." 

"Of  course  she  must,"  replied  my  sister;  "it  will  be  impos- 
sible for  her  to  help  it." 

"Ah  well!  I  don't  know,"  for  I  wanted  more  assurance  of 
it.     "  Maidens  are  such  wondrous  things !  " 

"^ot  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Annie,  casting  her  bright  eyes  down- 
wards :  "  love  is  as  simple  as  milking ;  when  people  know  how 
to  do  it.  But  you  must  not  let  her  alone  too  long;  that  is  my 
advice  to  you.  What  a  simpleton  you  must  have  been  not  to 
tell  me  long  ago !  I  would  have  made  Lorna  wild  about  you, 
long  before  this  time,  Johnny.  But  now  you  go  into  the  par- 
lor, dear,  while  I  do  your  collop.  Faith  Snowe  is  not  come, 
but  Polly  and  Sally.  Sally  has  made  up  her  mind  to  conquer 
you  this  very  blessed  evening,  John.  Only  look  what  a  thing 
of  a  scarf  she  has  on;  I  should  be  quite  ashamed  to  wear  it. 
But  you  Avon't  strike  i30or  Tom,  will  you?" 

"Not  I,  my  darling,  for  your  sweet  sake." 

And  so  dear  Annie,  having  grown  quite  brave,  gave  me  a  little 
push  into  the  parlor,  where  I  was  quite  abashed  to  enter,  after 
all  I  had  heard  about  Sally.  And  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
examine  her  well,  and  try  a  little  courting  with  her,  if  she 
should  lead  me  on,  that  I  might  be  in  practice  for  Lorna. 
But  when  I  perceived  how  grandly  and  richly  both  the  young 
damsels  were  apparelled;  and  how,  in  their  courtesies  to  me, 
they  retreated,  as  if  I  were  making  up  to  them,  in  a  way  they 
had  learned  from  Exeter ;  and  how  they  began  to  talk  of  the 
Court,  as  if  they  had  lieen  there  all  their  lives,  and  the  latest 
mode  of  the  Duchess  of  this,  and  the  profile  of  the  Countess  of 
that,  and  the  last  good  saying  of  my  Lord  something ;  instead 
of  butter,  and  cream,  and  eggs,  and  things  which  they  under- 
stood; I  knew  there  must  be  somebody  in  the  room  besides 
Jasper  Kebby  to  talk  at. 

And  so  there  was ;  for  behind  the  curtain  drawn  across  the 
window-seat,  no  less  a  man  than  L^ncle  Ben  was  sitting  half 
asleep  and  Aveary;  and  by  his  side  a  little  girl,  A^ery  quiet  and 
very  Avatchful.  My  mother  led  me  to  Uncle  Ben,  and  he  took 
my  hand  A\dthout  rising,  muttering  something  not  over-polite, 
about  my  being  bigger  than  eA^er.  I  asked  him  heartily  hoAV 
he  Avas,  and  he  said,  "  Well  enough,  for  that  matter;  but  none 
tlie  better  for  the  noise  you  great  clods  liave  been  making." 


206  LORNA   BOONE. 

"I  am  sorry  if  we  nave  disturbed  you,  sir,"  I  answered  very 
civilly;  "but  I  knew  not  that  you  were  here  even;  and  you 
must  allow  for  harvest  time." 

"So  it  seems,"  he  replied;  "and  allow  a  great  deal,  includ- 
ing waste  and  drunkenness.  Now  (if  you  can  see  so  small  a 
thing,  after  emptying  flagons  much  larger)  this  is  my  grand- 
daughter, and  my  heiress  "  —  here  he  glanced  at  mother  — 
"my  heiress,  little  Ruth  Huckaback." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Ruth,"  I  answered,  offering  her 
my  hand,  which  she  seemed  afraid  to  take;  "welcome  to 
Plover's  Barrows,  my  good  cousin  Ruth." 

However,  my  good  cousin  Ruth  only  arose,  and  made  me  a 
courtesy,  and  lifted  her  great  brown  eyes  at  me,  more  in  fear, 
as  I  thought,  than  kinship.  And  if  ever  any  one  looked  unlike 
the  heiress  to  great  property,  it  was  the  little  girl  before  me. 

"  Come  out  to  the  kitchen,  dear,  and  let  me  chuck  you  to 
the  ceiling,"  I  said,  just  to  encourage  her;  "I  always  do  it  to 
little  girls;  and  then  they  can  see  the  hams  and  bacon." 

But  Uncle  Reuben  burst  out  laughing;  and  Ruth  turned 
away  with  a  deep  rich  color. 

"Do  you  know  how  old  she  is,  you  numskull?"  said  Uncle 
Ben,  in  his  dryest  drawl;  "she  was  seventeen  last  July,  sir." 

"On  the  first  of  July,  grandfather,"  Ruth  whispered,  with 
her  back  still  to  me;  "but  many  people  will  not  believe  it." 

Here  mother  came  up  to  my  rescue,  as  she  always  loved  to 
do ;  and  she  said,  "  If  my  son  may  not  dance  Miss  Ruth,  at 
any  rate  he  may  dance  with  her.  We  have  only  been  waiting 
for  3^ou,  dear  John,  to  have  a  little  harvest  dance,  with  the 
kitchen  door  thrown  open.  You  take  Ruth;  Uucle  Ben  take 
Sally ;  Master  Kebby  pair  oft'  with  Polly ;  and  neighbor  Nicho- 
las will  be  good  enough,  if  I  can  awake  him,  to  stand  up  with 
fair  mistress  Kebby.  Lizzie  will  play  us  the  virginal.  Won't 
you,  Lizzie  dear?" 

"But  wlio  is  to  dance  with  you,  madam?"  Uncle  Ben  asked, 
very  politely.  "I  think  you  must  rearrange  your  figure.  I 
have  not  danced  for  a  score  of  years ;  and  I  will  not  dance  now, 
while  the  mistress  and  the  owner  of  the  harvest  sits  aside 
neglected." 

"Nay,  Master  Huckaback,"  cried  Sally  Snowe,  with  a  saucy 
toss  of  her  hair;  "Mistress  Ridd  is  too  kind  a  great  deal,  in 
handing  you  over  to  me.  You  take  her ;  and  I  will  fetch  Annie 
to  be  my  partner  this  evening.  I  like  dancing  very  unich 
better  with  girls,  for  they  never  squeeze  and  rumple  one.  Oh 
it  is  so  much  nicer ! " 


ANNIE  GETS   THE  BEST  OF  IT.  207 

"  Have  no  fear  for  me,  my  dears,"  our  mother  answered  smil- 
ing: "Parson  Bowden  promised  to  come  back  again:  I  expect 
him  every  minute;  and  he  intends  to  lead  me  oft',  and  to  bring 
a  partner  for  Annie  too,  a  very  pretty  young  gentleman.  Now 
begin;  and  I  will  join  you." 

There  was  no  disobeying  her,  without  rudeness ;  and  indeed 
the  girls'  feet  were  already  jigging;  and  Lizzie  giving  herself 
wonderful  airs  with  a  roll  of  learned  music ;  and  even  while 
Annie  was  doing  my  collop,  her  pretty  round  instep  was  arch- 
ing itself,  as  I  could  see  from  the  parlor-door.  So  I  took  little 
Ruth,  and  I  spun  her  around,  as  the  sound  of  the  music  came 
lively  and  ringing;  and  after  us  came  all  the  rest  with  much 
laughter,  begging  me  not  to  jump  over  her ;  and  anon  my  grave 
partner  began  to  smile  sweetly,  and  look  up  at  me  with  the 
brightest  of  eyes,  and  drop  me  the  prettiest  courtesies;  till  T 
thought  what  a  great  stupe  I  must  have  been,  to  dream  of  put- 
ting her  in  the  cheese-rack.  But  one  thing  I  could  not  at  all 
understand ;  why  mother,  who  used  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
throw  me  across  Sally  Snowe,  should  now  do  the  very  ojDposite ; 
for  she  would  not  allow  me  one  moment  with  Sally,  not  even 
to  cross  in  the  dance,  or  Avhisper,  or  go  any  where  near  a  cor- 
ner (which,  as  I  said,  I  intended  to  do,  just  by  way  of  practice) ; 
while  she  kept  me,  all  the  evening,  as  close  as  possible  with 
Ruth  Huckaback,  and  came  up  and  praised  me  so  to  Ruth, 
times  and  again,  that  I  declare  I  was  quite  ashamed.  Although 
of  course  I  knew  that  I  deserved  it  all;  but  I  could  not  well 
say  that. 

Then  Annie  came  sailing  down  the  dance,  with  her  beautiful 
hair  flowing  round  her;  the  lightest  figure  in  all  the  room,  and 
the  sweetest,  and  the  loveliest.  She  was  blushing,  with  her 
fair  cheeks  red  beneath  her  dear  blue  eyes,  as  she  met  my 
glance  of  surprise  and  grief  at  the  partner  she  was  leaning  on. 
It  was  Squire  Marwood  de  AYhichehalse.  I  would  sooner  have 
seen  her  with  Tom  Faggus,  as  indeed  I  had  expected,  Avhen  I 
heard  of  Parson  Bowden.  And  to  me  it  seemed  that  she  had 
no  right  to  be  dancing  so  with  any  other ;  and  to  this  effect  I 
contrived  to  whisper;  but  she  only  said,  "  See  to  yourself,  John. 
Xo,  but  let  us  both  enjoy  ourselves.  You  are  not  dancing  with 
Lorna,  John.     But  you  seem  uncommonly  happy." 

"  Tush,"  I  said;  "  could  I  flip  about  so,  if  I  had  my  love  with 
me?" 


208  LORNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTEE   XXXI. 

JOHN    fry's    ERRA.ND. 

We  kept  up  the  dance  very  late  that  night,  mother  being  in 
such  wonderful  spirits,  that  she  would  not  hear  of  our  going 
to  bed :  while  she  glanced  from  young  Squire  Marwood,  very 
deep  in  his  talk  with  our  Annie,  to  me  and  Euth  Huckaback, 
who  were  beginning  to  be  very  pleasant  company.  Alas,  poor 
mother,  so  proud  as  she  was,  how  little  she  dreamed  that  her 
good  schemes  already  were  hopelessly  going  awry ! 

Being  forced  to  be  up  before  daylight  next  day,  in  order  to 
begin  right  early,  I  would  not  go  to  my  bed-room  that  night, 
for  fear  of  disturbing  my  mother,  but  determined  to  sleep  in 
the  tallat  awhile,  that  place  being  cool,  and  airy,  and  refresh- 
ing with  the  smell  of  sweet  hay.  Moreover,  after  my  dwelling 
in  town,  where  1  had  felt  like  a  horse  on  a  lime -kiln,  I  could 
not  for  a  length  of  time  have  enough  of  country  life.  The 
mooing  of  a  calf  was  music,  and  the  chuckle  of  a  fowl  was  wit, 
and  the  snore  of  the  horses  was  news  to  me. 

"  Wult  have  thee  own  wai,  I  rackon,"  said  Betty,  being  cross 
with  sleepiness,  for  she  had  washed  up  everything;  "slape  in 
hog-pound,  if  thee  laikes,  Jan." 

Letting  her  have  the  last  word  of  it  (as  is  the  due  of  women) 
I  stood  in  the  court,  and  wondered  awhile  at  the  glory  of  the 
harvest  moon,  and  the  yellow  world  it  shone  upon.  Then  I 
saAV,  as  sure  as  I  was  standing  there  in  the  shadow  of  the 
stable,  I  saw  a  short  wide  figure  glide  across  the  foot  of  the 
courtyard,  between  me  and  the  six-barred  gate.  Instead  of 
running  after  it,  as  I  should  have  done,  I  began  to  consider  who 
it  could  be,  and  what  on  earth  it  was  doing  there,  when  all  our 
people  were  in  bed,  and  the  reapers  gone  home,  or  to  the  lin- 
hay  close  against  the  wheatfield. 

Having  made  up  my  mind  at  last,  that  it  could  be  none  of 
our  people  —  though  not  a  dog  was  barking  —  and  also  that  it 
must  have  been  either  a  girl  or  a  woman,  I  ran  down  with  al] 
speed  to  learn  what  might  be  the  meaning  of  it.  But  I  came 
too  late  to  learn,  through  my  own  hesitation;  for  this  was  the 
lower  end  of  the  courtyard,  not  the  approach  from  the  parish 
highway,  but  the  end  of  the  sledd-way  across  the  fields  where 
the  brook  goes  down  to  the  Lynn  stream,  and  where  Squire 
Faggus  had  saved  the  old  drake.     And  here  the  dry  channel  of 


JOHN  FRY'S  EBB  AND.  209 

the  brook,  being  scarcely  any  water  now,  afforded  plenty  of 
place  to  hide,  leading  also  to  a  little  coppice,  beyond  our  cab- 
bage-garden, and  so  further  on  to  the  parish  highway. 

I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  vain  to  make  any  pursuit  by  moon- 
light; and  resolving  to  hold  my  own  counsel  about  it  (though 
puzzled  not  a  little)  and  to  keep  watch  there  another  night, 
back  I  returned  to  the  tallat-ladder,  and  slept  without  leaving 
off  till  morning. 

Now  many  people  may  wish  to  know,  as  indeed  I  myself  did 
very  greatly,  what  had  brought  Master  Huckaback  over  from 
Dulverton,  at  that  time  of  year,  when  the  clothing  business 
was  most  active  on  account  of  harvest  wages,  and  when  the  new 
wheat  was  beginning  to  sample  from  the  early  parts  up  the 
country  (for  he  meddled  as  well  in  corn-dealing)  and  when  we 
could  not  attend  to  him  properly,  by  reason  of  our  occupation. 
And  yet  more  surprising  it  seemed  to  me,  that  he  should  have 
brought  his  granddaughter  also,  instead  of  the  troop  of  dra- 
goons, without  which  he  had  vowed  he  would  never  come  here 
again.  And  how  he  had  managed  to  enter  the  house,  together 
,with  his  granddaughter,  and  be  sitting  quite  at  home  in  the 
parlor  there,  without  any  knowledge  or  even  suspicion  on  my 
part.  That  last  question  was  easily  solved,  for  mother  herself 
had  admitted  them,  by  means  of  the  little  passage,  during  a 
chorus  of  the  harvest-song  which  might  have  drowned  an  earth- 
quake: but  as  for  his  meaning  and  motive,  and  apparent 
neglect  of  his  business,  none  but  himself  could  interpret  them; 
and  as  he  did  not  see  fit  to  do  so,  we  could  not  be  rude  enough 
to  inquire. 

He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  take  his  departure,  though  his  visit 
was  so  inconvenient  to  us,  as  himself  indeed  must  have  noticed: 
and  presently  Lizzie,  who  was  the  sharpest  among  us,  said  in 
my  hearing  that  she  believed  he  had  purposely  timed  his  visit 
so  that  he  might  have  liberty  to  pursue  his  own  object,  what- 
soever it  were,  without  interruption  from  us.  Mother  gazed 
hard  upon  Lizzie  at  this,  having  formed  a  very  different  opin- 
ion; but  Annie  and  myself  agreed  that  it  was  worth  looking 
into. 

Now  how  could  we  look  into  it,  without  watching  Uncle  Keu- 
ben,  whenever  he  went  abroad,  and  trying  to  catch  him  in  his 
speech,  when  he  was  taking  his  ease  at  night?  For,  in  spite 
of  all  the  disgust  with  which  he  had  spoken  of  harvest  was- 
sailing, there  was  not  a  man  coming  into  our  kitchen  who  liked 
it  better  than  he  did;  only  in  a  quiet  way,  and  without  too 
many  witnesses.     Now  to  endeavor  to  get  at  the  purpose  of 

VOL.  I.  --  U 


210  LOBNA   BOONE. 

any  guest,  even  a  treacherous  one  (which  we  had  no  right  to 
think  Uncle  Reuben)  by  means  of  observing  him  in  his  cups, 
is  a  thing  which  even  the  lowest  of  people  would  regard  with 
abhorrence.  And  to  my  mind  it  was  not  clear,  whether  it 
would  be  fair-play  at  all,  to  follow  a  visitor,  even  at  a  distance 
from  home  and  clear  of  our  premises ;  except  for  the  purpose 
of  fetching  him  back,  and  giving  him  more  to  go  on  with. 
Nevertheless  we  could  not  but  think,  the  times  being  wild  and 
disjointed,  that  Uncle  Ben  was  not  using  fairly  the  part  of  a 
guest  in  our  house,  to  make  long  expeditions  we  knew  not 
whither,  and  involve  us  in  trouble  we  knew  not  what. 

For  his  mode  was  directly  after  breakfast  to  pray  to  the  Lord 
a  little  (which  used  not  to  be  his  practice),  and  then  to  go  forth 
upon  Dolly,  the  which  was  our  Annie's  pony,  very  quiet  and 
respectful,  with  a  bag  of  good  victuals  hung  behind  him,  and 
two  great  cavalry  pistols  in  front.  And  he  always  wore  his 
meanest  clothes,  as  if  expecting  to  be  robbed,  or  to  disarm  the 
temptation  thereto;  and  he  never  took  his  golden  chronometer, 
neither  his  bag  of  money.  So  much  the  girls  found  out  and 
told  me  (for  I  was  never  at  home  myself  by  day) ;  and  they 
very  craftily  spurred  me  on,  having  less  noble  ideas  perhaps, 
to  hit  upon  Uncle  Reuben's  track,  and  follow,  and  see  what 
became  of  him.  For  he  never  returned  until  dark  or  more, 
just  in  time  to  be  in  before  us,  who  were  coming  home  from 
the  harvest.  And  then  Dolly  always  seemed  very  weary,  and 
stained  with  a  muck  from  beyond  our  parish. 

But  I  refused  to  follow  him,  not  only  for  the  loss  of  a  daj^'s 
work  to  myself,  and  at  least  half  a  day  to  the  other  men,  but 
chiefly  because  I  could  not  think  that  it  would  be  upright  and 
manly.  It  was  all  very  well  to  creep  warily  into  the  valley 
of  the  Doones,  and  heed  every  thing  around  me,  both  because 
they  were  public  enemies,  and  also  because  I  risked  my  life  at 
every  step  I  took  there.  But  as  to  tracking  a  feeble  old  man 
(however  subtle  he  might  be),  a  guest  moreover  of  our  own, 
and  a  relative  through  my  mother  —  "  Once  for  all, "  I  said, 
"it  is  below  me,  and  I  won't  do  it.'" 

Thereupon,  the  girls,  knowing  my  way,  ceased  to  torment 
me  about  it :  but  what  was  my  astonishment  the  very  next  day 
to  perceive  that  instead  of  fourteen  reapers,  we  were  only  thir- 
teen left,  directly  our  breakfast  was  done  with  —  or  mowers 
rather  I  should  say,  for  we  were  gone  into  the  barley  now. 

"Who  has  been  and  left  his  scythe?"  I  asked;  "and  here's 
a  tin  cup  never  handled !  " 

"Whoy,  dudn't  ee  knaw,  Maister  Jan,"  said  Bill  Dadds, 
looking  at  me  queerly,  "  as  Jan  Vry  wur  gane  avore  braxvass?  " 


JOHN  FRY'S  EBRAND.  211 

"Oh,  very  well,"  I  answered,  "John  knoAvs  what  he  is 
doing."  For  John  Fry  was  a  kind  of  foreman  now,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  say  anything  that  might  lessen  his  authority. 
However,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  rope  him,  when  I  should 
catch  him  by  himself,  without  peril  to  his  dignity. 

But  when  I  came  home  in  the  evening,  late  and  almost  weary, 
there  was  no  Annie  cooking  my  supper,  nor  Lizzie  by  the  fire 
reading,  nor  even  little  Ruth  Huckaback  watching  the  shadows 
and  pondering.  Upon  this,  I  went  to  the  girls'  room,  not  in 
the  very  best  of  tempers ;  and  there  I  found  all  three  of  them 
in  the  little  place  set  apart  for  Annie,  eagerly  listening  to  John 
Fry,  who  was  telling  some  great  adventure.  John  had  a  great 
jug  of  ale  beside  him,  and  a  horn  well  drained;  and  he  clearly 
looked  upon  himself  as  a  hero,  and  the  maids  seemed  to  be  of 
the  same  opinion. 

"Well  done,  John,"  my  sister  was  saying,  "capitally  done, 
John  Fry !  How  very  brave  you  have  been,  John !  Now  quick, 
let  us  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"What  does  all  this  nonsense  mean?"  I  said,  in  a  voice 
which  frightened  them,  as  I  could  see  by  the  light  of  our  own 
mutton  candles;  "John  Fry,  you  be  off  to  your  wife  at  once, 
or  you  shall  have  what  I  owe  you  now,  instead  of  to-morrow 
morning. " 

John  made  no  answer,  but  scratched  his  head,  and  looked  at 
the  maidens  to  take  his  part. 

"It  is  you  that  must  be  off,  I  think,"  said  Lizzie,  looking 
straight  at  me,  with  all  the  impudence  in  the  world:  "what 
right  have  you  to  come  in  here  to  the  young  ladies'  room,  with- 
out an  invitation  even?  " 

"Very  well,  Miss  Lizzie,  I  suppose  mother  has  some  right 
here."  And  with  that,  I  was  going  away  to  fetch  her,  know- 
ing that  she  always  took  my  side,  and  never  would  allow  the 
house  to  be  turned  upside  down  in  that  manner.  But  Annie 
caught  hold  of  me  by  the  arm,  and  little  Ruth  stood  in  the 
doorway;  and  Lizzie  said,  "Don't  be  a  fool,  John.  We  know 
things  of  you,  you  know ;  a  great  deal  more  than  you  dream  of." 

Upon  this  I  glanced  at  Annie,  to  learn  whether  she  had  been 
telling,  but  her  pure  true  face  reassured  me  at  once,  and  then 
she  said  very  gently, — 

"Lizzie,  you  talk  too  fast,  my  child.  No  one  knows  any 
thing  of  our  John,  which  he  need  be  ashamed  of;  and  working 
as  he  does  from  light  to  dusk,  and  earning  the  living  of  all  of 
us,  he  is  entitled  to  choose  his  own  good  time  for  going  out 
and  for  coming   in,  without  consulting  a  little  girl  five  years 


212  LORN  A   JDOONE. 

younger  than  himself.  Now,  John,  sit  down,  and  you  shall 
know  all  that  we  have  done,  though  I  doubt  whether  you  will 
approve  of  it." 

Upon  this  I  kissed  Annie,  and  so  did  Euth;  and  John  Fry 
looked  a  deal  more  comfortable,  but  Lizzie  only  made  a  face  at 
us.     Then  Annie  began  as  follows :  — 

"  You  must  know,  dear  John,  that  we  have  been  extremely 
curious,  ever  since  Uncle  Reuben  came,  to  know  what  he  was 
come  for,  especially  at  this  time  of  year,  when  he  is  at  his 
busiest.  He  never  vouchsafed  any  exj^lanation,  neither  gave 
any  reason,  true  or  false,  which  shows  his  entire  ignorance  of 
all  feminine  nature.  If  Ruth  had  known,  and  refused  to  tell 
us,  we  should  have  been  much  easier,  because  we  must  have 
got  it  out  of  Ruth,  before  two  or  three  days  were  over.  But 
darling  Ruth  knew  no  more  than  we  did;  and  indeed  I  must  do 
her  the  justice  to  say,  that  she  has  been  quite  as  inquisitive. 
Well,  we  might  have  put  up  with  it,  if  it  had  not  been  for  his 
taking  Dolly,  my  own  pet  Dolly,  aAvay  every  morning,  quite 
as  if  she  belonged  to  him,  and  keeping  her  out  until  close  upon 
dark,  and  then  bringing  her  home  in  a  frightful  condition.  And 
he  even  had  the  impudence,  when  I  told  him  that  Dolly  was 
my  pony,  to  say  that  we  owed  him  a  pony,  ever  since  you  took 
from  him  that  little  horse  upon  which  you  found  him  strapped 
so  snugly ;  and  he  means  to  take  Dolly  to  Dulverton  with  him, 
to  run  in  his  little  cart.  If  there  is  law  in  the  land,  he  shall 
not.     Surely,  John,  you  will  not  let  him?" 

"That  I  won't,"  said  I,  "except  upon  the  conditions  which 
I  offered  him  once  before.  If  we  owe  him  the  pony,  we  owe 
him  the  straps." 

Sweet  Annie  laughed,  like  a  bell,  at  this,  and  then  she  went 
on  with  her  story. 

"Well,  John,  we  were  perfectly  miserable.  You  cannot 
understand  it,  of  course;  but  I  used  to  go  every  evening,  and 
hug  poor  Dolly,  and  kiss  her,  and  beg  her  to  tell  me  where  she 
had  been,  and  what  she  had  seen,  that  day.  But  never  having 
belonged  to  Balaam,  darling  Dolly  was  quite  unsuccessful, 
though  often  she  strove  to  tell  me,  with  her  ears  down,  and 
both  eyes  rolling.  Then  I  made  John  Fry  tie  her  tail  in  a 
knot,  with  a  piece  of  white  ribbon,  as  if  for  adornment,  that  I 
might  trace  her  among  the  hills,  at  any  rate  for  a  mile  or  two. 
But  Uncle  Ben  was  too  deep  for  that;  he  cut  off  the  ribbon 
before  he  started,  saying  he  would  have  no  Doones  after  him. 
And  then,  in  despair,  I  applied  to  you,  knowing  how  quick  of 
foot  you  are,  and  I  got  Ruth  and  Lizzie  to  help  me,  but  you 


JOHN  FRY'S   EBB  AND.  213 

answered  us  very  shortly ;  and  a  very  poor  supper  you  had  that 
night,  according  to  your  deserts. 

"  But  though  we  were  dashed  to  the  ground  for  a  time,  we 
were  not  wholly  discomfited.  Our  determination  to  know  all 
about  it  seemed  to  increase  with  the  difficulty.  And  Uncle 
Ben's  manner  last  night  was  so  dry,  when  we  tried  to  romp 
and  to  lead  him  out,  that  it  was  much  worse  than  Jamaica 
ginger  grated  into  a  poor  sprayed  finger.  So  we  sent  him  to 
bed  at  the  earliest  moment,  and  held  a  small  council  upon  him. 
If  you  remember,  you,  John,  having  now  taken  to  smoke  (which 
is  a  hateful  practice),  had  gone  forth  grumbling  about  your  bad 
supper,  and  not  taking  it  as  a  good  lesson." 

''Why,  Annie,"  I  cried,  in  amazement  at  this,  "I  will  never 
trust  you  again  for  a  supper.     I  thought  you  were  so  sorry." 

"And  so  I  was,  dear;  very  sorry.  But  still,  we  must  do  our 
duty.  And  when  we  came  to  consider  it,  Euth  was  the  cleverest 
of  us  all ;  for  she  said  that  surely  we  must  have  some  man  we 
could  trust,  about  the  farm,  to  go  on  a  little  errand;  and  then 
I  remembered  that  old  John  Fry  would  do  anything  for  money." 

"Not  for  money,  plaize,  miss,"  said  John  Fry,  taking  a  pull 
at  the  beer;  "but  for  the  love  o'  your  swate  faice." 

"To  be  sure,  John;  with  the  King's  behind  it.  And  so 
Lizzie  ran  for  John  Fry  at  once,  and  Ave  gave  him  full  direc- 
tions, how  he  was  to  slip  out  of  the  barley  in  the  confusion  of 
the  breakfast,  so  that  none  might  miss  him;  and  to  run  back 
to  the  black  combe  bottom,  and  there  he  would  find  the  very 
same  pony  which  Uncle  Ben  had  been  tied  upon,  and  there  is 
no  faster  upon  the  farm.  And  then,  without  Avaiting  for  any 
breakfast,  unless  he  could  eat  it  either  running  or  trotting,  he 
was  to  travel  all  up  the  black  combe,  by  the  track  Uncle  Eeu- 
ben  had  taken ;  and  up  at  the  top  to  look  forward  carefully, 
and  so  to  trace  him  Avithout  being  seen." 

"Ay;  and  raight  aa-uII  a  doo'd  un,"  John  cried,  AA^th  his 
mouth  in  the  bullock's  horn. 

"Well,  and  what  did  you  see,  John?"  I  asked,  with  great 
anxiety ;  though  I  meant  to  have  shoAAai  no  interest. 

"  John  Avas  just  at  the  A^ery  point  of  it,"  Lizzie  ansAvered 
me  sharply,  "Avhen  you  chose  to  come  in  and  stop  him." 

"Then  let  him  begin  again,"  said  I;  "things  being  gone  so 
far,  it  is  noAv  my  duty  to  knoAv  everything,  for  the  sake  of  j'ou 
girls  and  mother." 

"Hem!  "  cried  Lizzie,  in  a  nasty  way;  but  I  took  no  notice 
of  her,  for  she  was  alAA^ays  bad  to  deal  AA^th.  Therefore  John 
Fry  began  again,  being  heartily  glad  to  do  so,  that  his  story 


214  LORNA  BOONE. 

might  get  out  of  the  tumble  which  all  our  talk  had  made  in  it. 
But  as  he  could  not  tell  a  tale,  in  the  manner  of  my  Lorna 
(although  he  told  it  very  well,  for  those  who  understood  him) 
I  will  take  it  from  his  mouth  altogether,  and  state  in  brief 
what  happened. 

When  John,  upon  his  forest  pony,  which  he  had  much  ado 
to  hold  (its  mouth  being  like  a  bucket),  was  come  to  the  top 
of  the  long  black  combe,  two  miles  or  more  from  Plover's  Bar- 
rows, and  winding  to  the  southward,  he  stopped  his  little  nag 
short  of  the  crest,  and  got  oft",  and  looked  ahead  of  him,  from 
behind  a  tump  of  whortles.  It  was  a  long  flat  sweep  of  moor- 
land over  which  he  was  gazing,  Avith  a  few  bogs  here  and  there, 
and  brushy  places  round  thein.  Of  course,  John  Fry,  from  his 
shepherd  life,  and  reclaiming  of  strayed  cattle,  knew  as  well 
as  need  be  where  he  was,  and  the  spread  of  the  hills  before  him, 
although  it  was  beyond  our  beat,  or,  rather,  I  should  say  beside 
it.  Not  but  what  we  might  have  grazed  there,  had  it  been  our 
pleasure,  but  that  it  was  not  worth  our  while,  and  scarcely 
worth  Jasper  Kebby's  even;  all  the  land  being  cropped  (as 
one  might  say)  with  desolation.  And  nearly  all  our  knowl- 
edge of  it  sprang  from  the  unaccountable  tricks  of  cows  who 
have  young  calves  with  them;  at  which  time  they  have  wild 
desire  to  get  away  from  the  sight  of  man,  and  keep  calf  and 
milk  for  one  another,  although  it  be  in  a  barren  land.  At 
least,  our  cows  have  gotten  this  trick,  and  I  have  heard  other 
people  complain  of  it. 

John  Fry,  as  I  said,  kncAv  the  place  well  enough,  but  he 
liked  it  none  the  more  for  that,  neither  did  any  of  our  people; 
and,  indeed,  all  the  neighborhood  of  Thomshill  and  Larks- 
borough,  and  most  of  all  Black  Barrow  Down  lay  under  grave 
imputation  of  having  been  enchanted  with  a  very  evil  spell. 
Moreover,  it  was  known,  though  folk  were  loth  to  speak  of  it, 
even  on  a  summer  morning,  that  Squire  Thom,  who  had  been 
murdered  there,  a  century  ago  or  more,  had  ]:>een  seen  by  sev- 
eral shepherds,  even  in  the  middle  day,  walking  with  his 
severed  head  carried  in  his  left  hand,  and  his  right  arm  lifted 
towards  the  sun. 

Therefore  it  was  very  bold  in  John  (as  I  acknowledged)  to 
venture  across  that  moor  alone,  even  with  a  fast  pony  under 
him,  and  some  whiskey  by  his  side.  And  he  would  never  have 
done  so  (of  that  I  am  quite  certain),  either  for  the  sake  of 
Annie's  sweet  face,  or  of  the  golden  guinea,  which  the  three 
maidens  had  subscribed  to  reward  his  skill  and  valor.  But  the 
truth  was  that  he  could  not  resist  his  own  great  curiosity. 


#  ^ 


/  ^-- 


.  /'     ■ 

HE     LEANED     OVER     AND     PEERED     IN     AROUND     THE     ROCKY     CORNER." - 

Vol.     I.     p.     215- 


JOHN   FRY'S   ERRAND.  215 

For,  carefully  spying  across  the  moor,  from  behind  the  tuft  of 
whortles,  at  first  he  could  discover  nothing  having  life  and 
motion,  except  three  or  four  wild  cattle  roving  in  vain  search 
for  nourishment,  and  a  diseased  sheep  banished  hither,  and 
some  carrion  crows  keeping  watch  on  her.  But  when  John 
was  taking  his  very  last  look,  being  only  too  glad  to  go  home 
again,  and  acknowledge  himself  battled,  he  thought  he  saw  a 
figure  moving  in  the  furthest  distance  upon  Black  Barrow 
Down,  scarcely  a  thing  to  be  sure  of  yet,  on  account  of  the 
want  of  color.  But  as  he  watched,  the  figure  passed  between 
him  and  a  naked  cliff,  and  appeared  to  be  a  man  on  horseback, 
making  his  way  very  carefully,  in  fear  of  bogs  and  serpents. 
For  all  about  there  it  is  adders'  ground,  and  large  black  ser- 
pents dwell  in  the  marshes,  and  can  swim  as  well  as  crawl. 

John  knew  that  the  man  who  Avas  riding  there  could  be  none 
but  Uncle  Reuben,  for  none  of  the  Doones  ever  passed  that 
way,  and  the  shepherds  were  afraid  of  it.  And  now  it  seemed 
an  unkid  place  for  an  unarmed  man  to  venture  through,  espe- 
cially after  an  armed  one  who  might  not  like  to  be  spied  upon, 
and  must  have  some  dark  object  in  visiting  such  drear  solitudes. 
Nevertheless,  John  Fry  so  ached  with  unbearable  curiosity  to 
know  what  an  old  man,  and  a  stranger,  and  a  rich  man,  and  a 
peaceable,  could  possibly  be  after  in  that  mysterious  manner. 
Moreover,  John  so  throbbed  with  hope  to  find  some  wealthy 
secret,  that  come  what  would  of  it,  he  resolved  to  go  to  the  end 
of  the  matter. 

Therefore  he  onl}^  waited  awhile,  for  fear  of  being  discovered, 
till  Master  Huckaback  turned  to  the  left,  and  entered  a  little 
gully,  Avhence  he  could  not  survey  tlie  moor.  Then  John 
remounted,  and  crossed  the  rough  land  and  the  stony  places, 
and  picked  his  way  among  the  morasses,  as  fast  as  ever  he 
dared  to  go;  until,  in  about  half  an  hour,  he  drew  nigh  the 
entrance  of  the  gully.  And  now  it  behoved  him  to  be  most 
wary;  for  Uncle  Ben  might  have  stopped  in  there,  either  to 
rest  his  horse  or  having  reached  the  end  of  his  journey.  And 
in  either  case,  John  had  little  doubt  that  he  himself  would  be 
pistolled,  and  nothing  more  ever  heard  of  him.  Therefore  he 
made  his  pony  come  to  the  mouth  of  it  sideways,  and  leaned 
over,  and  peered  in  around  the  rocky  corner,  while  the  little 
horse  cropped  at  the  briars. 

But  he  soon  perceived  tliat  the  gully  was  empty,  so  far  at 
least  as  its  course  was  straight;  and  with  that  he  hastened  into 
it,  though  his  heart  was  not  working  easily.  When  he  had 
traced  the  winding  hollow  for  half  a  mile  or  more,  he  saw  that 


216  LORN  A   DOONE. 

it  forked,  and  one  part  led  to  the  left  up  a  steep  red  bank,  and 
the  other  to  the  right,  being  narrow,  and  slightly  tending 
downwards.  Some  yellow  sand  lay  here  and  there  between 
the  starving  grasses,  and  this  he  examined  narrowly  for  a  trace 
of  Master  Huckaback. 

At  last  he  saw  that,  beyond  all  doubt,  the  man  he  was  pur- 
suing had  taken  the  course  which  led  down  hill;  and  down  the 
hill  he  must  follow  him.  And  this  John  did  with  deep  mis- 
givings, and  a  hearty  wish  that  he  had  never  started  upon  so 
perilous  an  errand.  For  now  he  knew^  not  where  he  was,  and 
scarcely  dared  to  ask  himself,  having  heard  of  a  horrible  hole, 
somewnere  in  this  neighborhood,  called  the  "  AYizard's  Slough." 
Therefore  John  rode  down  the  slope,  with  sorrow,  and  great 
caution.  And  these  grew  more  as  he  went  onward,  and  his 
pony  reared  against  him,  being  scared,  although  a  native  of 
the  roughest  moorland.  And  John  had  just  made  up  his  mind 
that  God  meant  this  for  a  warning,  as  the  passage  seemed 
darker  and  deeper,  Avhen  suddenly  he  turned  a  corner,  and  saw 
a  scene  which  stopj^ed  him. 

For  there  was  the  Wizard's  Slough  itself,  as  black  as  death, 
and  bubbling,  with  a  few  scant  yellow  reeds  in  a  ring  around 
it.  Outside  these,  bright  w^atergrass  of  the  liveliest  green  was 
creeping,  tempting  any  unwary  foot  to  step,  and  plunge,  and 
founder.  And  on  the  marge  were  blue  campanula,  sundew, 
and  forget-me-not,  such  as  no  child  could  resist.  On  either 
side,  the  hill  fell  back,  and  the  ground  was  broken  with  tufts 
of  rush,  and  flag,  and  marestail,  and  a  few  rough  alder-trees 
overclogged  with  water.  And  not  a  bird  was  seen,  or  heard, 
neither  rail  nor  water-hen,  wag-tail  nor  reed-warbler. 

Of  this  horrible  quagmire,  the  worst  upon  all  Exmoor,  John 
had  heard  from  his  grandfather,  and  even  from  his  mother, 
wlien  they  wanted  to  keep  him  quiet;  but  his  father  had  feared 
to  speak  of  it  to  him,  being  a  man  of  piety,  and  up  to  the  tricks 
of  the  evil  one.  This  made  John  the  more  desirous  to  have  a 
good  look  at  it  now,  only  with  his  girths  well  up,  to  turn  away 
and  flee  at  speed,  if  any  thing  should  happen.  And  now  he 
proved  hoAV  well  it  is  to  be  wary  and  wide-awake,  even  in  lone- 
some places.  For  at  the  other  side  of  the  Slough,  and  a  few 
landyards  beyond  it,  where  the  ground  was  less  noisome,  he 
had  observed  a  felled  tree  lying  over  a  great  hole  in  the  earth, 
wath  staves  of  wood,  and  slabs  of  stone,  and  some  yelloAV  gravel 
around  it.  But  the  flags  of  reeds  around  the  morass  partly 
screened  it  from  his  eyes,  and  he  could  not  make  out  the  mean- 
ing of  it,  except  that  it  meant  no   good,  and  probably  was 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRAND.  217 

Avitchcraft.  Yet  Dolly  seemed  not  to  be  harmed  by  it;  for 
there  she  was,  as  large  as  life,  tied  to  a  stump  not  far  beyond, 
and  flipping  the  flies  away  with  her  tail. 

AVhile  John  was  trembling  within  himself,  lest  Dolly  should 
get  scent  of  his  pony,  and  neigh  and  reveal  their  presence, 
although  she  could  not  see  them,  suddenly  to  his  great  amaze- 
ment something  white  arose  out  of  the  hole,  under  the  brown 
trunk  of  the  tree.  Seeing  this  his  blood  went  back  within 
him ;  yet  was  he  not  able  to  turn  and  flee,  but  rooted  his  face 
in  among  the  loose  stones,  and  kept  his  quivering  shoulders 
back,  and  prayed  to  God  to  protect  him.  However,  the  white 
thing  itself  was  not  so  very  awful,  being  nothing  more  than  a 
long-coned  night-cap  with  a  tassel  on  the  top,  such  as  criminals 
wear  at  hanging-time.  But  when  John  saw  a  man's  face  under 
it,  and  a  man's  neck  and  shoulders  slowly  rising  out  of  the  pit, 
he  could  not  doubt  that  this  was  the  place  where  the  murderers 
come  to  life  again,  according  to  the  Exmoor  story.  He  knew 
that  a  man  had  been  hanged  last  week,  and  that  this  was  the 
ninth  day  after  it. 

Therefore  he  could  bear  no  more,  thoroughly  brave  as  he 
had  been;  neither  did  he  wait  to  see  what  became  of  the 
gallows -man;  but  climbed  on  his  horse  with  what  speed  he 
might,  and  rode  away  at  full  gallop.  jS^either  did  he  dare  go 
back  by  the  way  he  came,  fearing  to  face  Black  Barrow  Down. 
Therefore  he  struck  up  the  other  track  leading  away  towards 
Cloven  Rocks,  and  after  riding  hard  for  an  hour  and  drinking 
all  his  whiskey,  he  luckily  fell  in  with  a  shepherd,  who  led 
him  on  to  a  pablic-hoiise  somewhere  near  Exeford.  And  here 
he  was  so  unmanned,  the  excitement  being  over,  that  nothing 
less  than  a  gallon  of  ale  and  half  a  gammon  of  bacon,  brought 
him  to  his  right  mind  again.  And  he  took  good  care  to  be 
home  before  dark,  having  followed  a  well-known  sheep-track. 

When  John  Fry  had  finished  his  story  at  last,  after  many 
exclamations  from  Annie,  and  from  Lizzie,  and  much  praise 
of  his  gallantry,  yet  some  little  disappointment  that  he  had 
not  stayed  there  a  little  longer,  while  he  Avas  about  it,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  tell  us  more,  I  said  to  him  very  sternly, — 

"Xow,  John,  you  have  dreamed  half  this,  my  man.  I 
firmly  believe  that  you  fell  asleep  at  the  top  of  the  black  combe, 
after  drinking  all  your  whiskey,  and  never  went  on  the  moor  at 
all.     You  know  what  a  liar  you  are,  John." 

The  girls  were  exceedingly  angry  at  this,  and  laid  their  hands 
before  my  mouth ;  but  I  waited  for  John  to  answer,  with  my 
eyes  fixed  upon  him  steadfastly. 


218  LORN  A   BOONE. 

"Bain't  for  me  to  denai/'  said  John,  looking  at  me  very 
honestly,  "  but  what  a  maigh  tull  a  lai,  now  and  awhiles,  zame 
as  other  men  doth,  and  most  of  arl  them  as  spaks  again  it ;  but 
this  here  be  no  lai,  Maister  Jan.  I  wush  to  God  it  wor,  boy : 
a  maight  slape  this  naight  the  better." 

"I  believe  you  speak  the  truth,  John;  and  I  ask  your  par- 
don. Xow  not  a  word  to  any  one,  about  this  strange  affair. 
There  is  mischief  brewing,  I  can  see;  and  it  is  my  place  to 
attend  to  it.  Several  things  come  across  me  now  —  only  I  will 
not  tell  you." 

They  were  not  at  all  contented  with  this;  but  I  would  give 
them  no  better;  except  to  say  when  they  plagued  me  greatly, 
and  vowed  to  sleep  at  my  door  all  night, — 

"  Now,  my  dears,  this  is  foolish  of  you.  Too  much  of  this 
matter  is  known  already.  It  is  for  your  own  dear  sakes  that 
I  am  bound  to  be  cautious.  I  have  an  opinion  of  my  own;  but 
it  may  be  a  very  wrong  one ;  I  will  not  ask  you  to  share  it  with 
me;  neither  will  I  make  you  inquisitive." 

Annie  pouted,  and  Lizzie  frowned,  and  Ruth  looked  at  me 
with  her  eyes  wide  open,  but  no  other  mark  of  regarding  me. 
And  I  saw  that  if  any  one  of  the  three  (for  John  Fry  was  gone 
home  with  the  trembles)  could  be  trusted  to  keep  a  secret,  that 
one  was  Ruth  Huckaback. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

FEEDING    OF    THE    PIGS. 

The  story  told  by  John  Fry  that  night,  and  my  conviction 
of  its  truth,  made  me  very  uneasy,  especially  as  following  upon 
the  warning  of  Judge  Jeffreys,  and  the  hints  received  from 
Jeremy  Stickles,  and  the  outburst  of  the  tanner  at  Dunster, 
as  well  as  sundry  tales  and  rumors,  and  sighs  of  secret  under- 
standing, seen  and  heard  on  market-days,  and  at  places  of 
entertainment.  We  knew  for  certain  that  at  Taunton,  Ih-idge 
water,  and  even  Dulverton,  there  was  much  disaffection  towards 
the  King,  and  regret  for  the  days  of  the  Puritans.  Albeit  I 
had  told  the  truth,  and  the  pure  and  simple  truth,  when,  upon 
my  examination,  I  had  assured  liis  lordship,  that  to  the  best  of 
my  knowledge  there  was  nothing  of  the  sort  with  us. 

But  now  I  was  beginning  to  doubt  whether  I  might  not  have 
been  mistaken;  especially  when  we  heard,  as  we  did,  of  arms 


FEEDING   OF  THE  PIGS.  219 

being  landed  at  Lynmouth,  in  tlie  dead  of  tlie  night,  and  of 
the  tramp  of  men  having  reached  some  one's  ears,  from  a  hill 
where  a  famous  echo  was.  For  it  must  be  plain  to  any  con- 
spirator (without  the  example  of  the  Doones)  that  for  the  secret 
muster  of  men,  and  the  stowing  of  unlawful  arms,  and  com- 
munication by  beacon  lights,  scarcely  a  fitter  place  could  be 
found  than  the  wilds  of  Exmoor,  with  deep  ravines  running 
far  inland  from  an  unwatclied  and  mostly  a  sheltered  sea. 
For  the  channel  from  Countisbury  Foreland  up  to  Minehead, 
or  even  further,  though  rock}-,  and  gusty,  and  full  of  currents, 
is  safe  from  great  rollers  and  the  sweeping  power  of  the  south- 
west storms,  which  abound  with  us  more  than  all  the  others, 
and  make  sad  work  on  the  opposite  coast. 

But  even  supposing  it  probable  that  something  against  King 
Charles  the  Second  (or  rather  against  his  Eoman  advisers,  and 
especially  his  brother)  were  now  in  preparation  amongst  us, 
was  it  likely  that  Master  Huckaback,  a  wealthy  man,  and  a 
careful  one,  known  moreover  to  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  would 
have  anything  to  do  with  it?  To  this  I  could  make  no  answer; 
Uncle  Ben  was  so  close  a  man,  so  avaricious,  and  so  revenge- 
ful, that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  say  what  course  he  might 
pursue,  without  knowing  all  the  chances  of  gain,  or  rise,  or 
satisfaction  to  him.  That  he  hated  the  Papists,  I  knew  full 
well,  though  he  never  spoke  much  about  them ;  also  that  he 
had  followed  the  march  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  army,  but  more 
as  a  suttler  (people  said)  than  as  a  real  soldier;  and  that  he 
would  go  a  long  way,  and  risk  a  great  deal  of  money,  to  have 
his  revenge  on  the  Doones;  although  their  name  never  passed 
his  lips,  during  the  present  visit. 

But  how  was  it  likely  to  be,  as  to  the  Doones  themselves? 
Which  side  would  they  probably  take  in  the  coming  movement, 
if  movement  indeed  it  would  be?  So  far  as  they  had  any  relig- 
ion at  all,  by  birth  they  were  Eoman  Catholics  —  so  much  I 
knew  from  Lorna;  and  indeed  it  was  well  known  all  around, 
that  a  priest  had  been  fetched  more  than  once  to  the  valley,  to 
soothe  some  poor  outlaw's  departure.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  were  not  likely  to  entertain  much  affection  for  the  son  of 
the  man  who  had  banished  them,  and  confiscated  their  prop- 
erty. And  it  was  not  at  all  impossible  that  desperate  men, 
such  as  they  were,  having  nothing  to  lose,  but  estates  to 
recover,  and  not  being  held  by  religion  much,  should  cast  away 
all  regard  for  the  birth  from  which  they  had  been  cast  out,  and 
make  common  cause  with  a  Protestant  rising,  for  the  chance 
of  revenge  and  replacement. 


220  LOBNA    BOONE. 

However  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  all  these  things  occurred 
to  me  as  clearly  as  I  have  set  them  down;  only  that  I  was  in 
general  doubt,  and  very  sad  perplexity.  For  mother  was  so 
warm,  and  innocent,  and  so  kind  to  every  one,  that  knowing 
some  little  by  .this  time  of  the  English  constitution,  I  feared 
very  greatly  lest  she  should  be  punished  for  harboring  malcon- 
tents. As  well  as  possible  I  knew,  that  if  any  poor  man  came 
to  our  door,  and  cried,  "Officers  are  after  me;  for  God's  sake 
take  and  hide  me,"  mother  would  take  him  in  at  once,  and 
conceal,  and  feed  him ;  even  though  he  had  been  very  violent : 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  so  would  both  my  sisters,  and  so  indeed 
would  I  do.  Whence  it  will  be  clear,  that  we  were  not  the 
sort  of  people  to  be  safe  among  disturbances. 

Before  I  could  quite  make  up  my  mind  how  to  act  in  this 
difficulty,  and  how  to  get  at  the  rights  of  it  (for  I  would  not 
spy  after  Uncle  Reuben,  though  I  felt  no  great  fear  of  the 
Wizard's  Slough,  and  none  of  the  man  with  white  night-cap), 
a  difference  came  again  upon  it,  and  a  change  of  chances.  For 
Uncle  Ben  went  away,  as  suddenly  as  he  first  had  come  to  us, 
giving  no  reason  for  his  departure,  neither  claiming  the  pony, 
and  indeed  leaving  something  behind  him  of  great  value  to 
my  mother.  For  he  begged  her  to  see  to  his  young  grand- 
daughter, until  he  could  find  opportunity  of  fetching  her 
safely  to  Dulverton.  Mother  was  overjoyed  at  this,  as  she 
could  not  help  displaying;  and  Ruth  was  quite  as  much  de- 
lighted, although  she  durst  not  show  it.  For  at  Dulverton  she 
had  to  watch  and  keep  such  ward  on  the  victuals,  and  the  in 
and  out  of  the  shopmen,  that  it  went  entirely  against  her 
heart,  and  she  never  could  enjoy  herself.  Truly  she  was  an 
altered  maiden  from  the  day  she  came  to  us;  catching  our 
unsuspicious  manners,  and  our  free  good-will,  and  hearty 
noise  of  laughing. 

By  this  time,  the  harvest  being  done,  and  the  thatching  of 
the  ricks  made  sure  against  south-western  tempests,  and  all 
the  reapers  being  gone,  with  good  money  and  thankfulness,  I 
began  to  burn  in  spirit  for  the  sight  of  Lorna.  I  had  begged 
my  sister  Annie  to  let  Sally  Siiowe  know,  once  for  all,  that 
it  was  not  in  my  power  to  have  any  thing  more  to  do  with 
her.  Of  course  our  Annie  was  not  to  grieve  Sally,  neither 
to  let  it  appear  for  a  moment  that  I  suspected  her  kind  views 
upon  me,  and  her  strong  regard  for  our  dairy :  only  I  thought 
it  right  upon  our  part,  not  to  waste  Sally's  time  any  longer, 
l)eing  a  handsome  wench  as  she  was,  and  many  young  fellows 
glad  to  marry  her. 


FEEDiyG    OF  THE  PIGS.  221 

And  Annie  did  this  uncommonly  well,  as  she  herself  told 
me  afterwards,  having  taken  Sally  in  the  sweetest  manner 
into  her  pure  confidence,  and  opened  half  her  bosom  to  her, 
about  my  very  sad  love  affair.  Not  that  she  let  Sally  know, 
of  course,  who  it  was,  or  Avhat  it  was ;  only  that  she  made  her 
understand,  without  hinting  at  any  desire  of  it,  that  there  was 
no  chance  now  of  having  me.  Sally  changed  color  a  little  at 
this,  and  then  went  on  about  a  red  cow  which  had  passed  seven 
needles  at  milking  time. 

Inasmuch  as  there  are  two  sorts  of  month  well  recognized 
by  the  calendar,  to  wit  the  lunar  and  the  solar,  I  made  bold  to 
regard  both  my  months,  in  the  absence  of  any  provision,  as 
intended  to  be  strictly  lunar.  Therefore  upon  the  very  day 
when  the  eight  weeks  were  expiring,  forth  I  went  in  search  of 
Lorna,  taking  the  pearl  ring  hopefully,  and  all  the  new-laid 
eggs  I  could  find,  and  a  dozen  and  a  half  of  small  trout  from 
our  brook.  And  the  pleasure  it  gave  me  to  catch  those  trout, 
thinking  as  every  one  came  forth  and  danced  upon  the  grass, 
how  much  she  would  enjoy  him,  is  more  than  I  can  now  de- 
scribe, although  I  well  remember  it.  And  it  struck  me,  that 
after  accepting  my  ring,  and  saying  how  much  she  loved  me, 
it  was  possible  that  my  sweet  might  invite  me  even  to  stay 
and  sup  with  her :  and  so  I  arranged  with  dear  Annie  before- 
hand, who  now  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  me,  to  account  for 
my  absence  if  I  should  be  late. 

But  alas,  I  was  utterly  disappointed;  for  although  I  waited 
and  waited  for  hours,  with  an  equal  amount  both  of  patience 
and  peril,  no  Lorna  ever  appeared  at  all,  nor  even  the  faintest 
sign  of  her.  And  another  thing  occurred  as  well,  which  vexed 
me  more  than  it  need  have  done,  for  so  small  a  matter.  And 
this  was  that  my  little  offering  of  the  trout,  and  the  new-laid 
eggs,  was  carried  off  in  the  coolest  manner  by  that  vile  Carver 
Doone.  For  thinking  to  keep  them  the  fresher  and  nicer, 
away  from  so  much  handling,  I  laid  them  in  a  little  bed  of 
reeds  by  the  side  of  the  water,  and  placed  some  dog-leaves 
over  them.  And  when  I  had  quite  forgotten  about  them,  and 
was  watching  from  my  hiding-place  beneath  the  willow-tree 
(for  I  liked  not  to  enter  Lorna' s  bower,  without  her  permis- 
sion; except  just  to  peep  that  she  was  not  there),  and  while  I 
was  turning  the  ring  in  my  pocket,  having  just  seen  the  new 
moon,  I  became  aware  of  a  great  man  coming  leisurely  down 
the  valley.  He  had  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  a  leather 
jerkin,  and  heavy  jack  boots  to  his  middle  thigh,  and  what 
was  worst  of  all  for  me,  on  his  shoulder  he  bore  a  long  car- 


222  LORNA   BOONE. 

bine.  Having  nothing  to  meet  him  withal  but  my  staff,  and 
desiring  to  avoid  disturbance,  I  retired  promptly  into  the 
chasm,  keeping  the  tree  betwixt  us,  that  he  might  not  descry 
me,  and  watching  from  behind  the  jut  of  a  rock,  where  now  I 
had  scraped  myself  a  neat  little  hole  for  the  purpose. 

Presently  the  great  man  reappeared,  being  now  within  fifty 
yards  of  me,  and  the  light  still  good  enough,  as  he  drew 
nearer,  for  me  to  descry  his  features :  and  though  I  am  not  a 
judge  of  men's  faces,  there  was  something  in  his  whicli 
turned  me  cold,  as  though  with  a  kind  of  horror.  Not  that 
it  was  an  ugly  face ;  nay,  rather  it  seemed  a  handsome  one,  so 
far  as  mere  form  and  line  might  go,  full  of  strength,  and  vigor, 
and  will,  and  steadfast  resolution.  From  the  short  black  hair 
above  the  broad  forehead,  to  the  long  black  beard  descending 
below  the  curt  bold  chin,  there  was  not  any  curve,  or  glimpse 
of  weakness,  or  of  afterthought.  Nothing  playful,  nothing 
pleasant,  nothing  with  a  track  for  smiles;  nothing  which  a 
friend  could  like,  and  laugh  at  him  for  having.  And  yet  he 
might  have  been  a  good  man  (for  I  have  known  very  good 
men  so  fortified  by  their  own  strange  ideas  of  God) :  I  say 
that  he  might  have  seemed  a  good  man,  but  for  the  cold  and 
cruel  hankering  of  his  steel-blue  eyes. 

Now  let  no  one  suppose  for  a  minute,  that  I  saw  all  this  in 
a  moment;  for  I  am  very  slow,  and  take  a  long  time  to  digest 
things;  only  I  like  to  set  down,  and  have  done  with  it,  all 
the  results  of  my  knowledge,  though  they  be  not  manifold. 
But  what  I  said  to  myself,  just  then,  was  no  more  than  this : 
"What  a  fellow  to  have  Lorna!  "  Having  my  sense  of  right 
so  outraged  (altliough,  of  course,  I  would  never  allow  her  to 
go  so  far  as  that),  I  almost  longed  that  he  might  thrust  his 
head  in  to  look  after  me.  For  there  I  was,  with  my  ash  staff 
clubbed,  ready  to  have  at  him,  and  not  ill  inclined  to  do  so ; 
if  only  he  would  come  where  strength,  not  fire-arms,  must 
decide  it.  However,  he  suspected  nothing  of  my  dangerous 
neighborhood ;  but  walked  his  round  like  a  sentinel,  and  turned 
at  the  brink  of  the  water. 

Then  as  he  marched  back  again,  along  the  margin  of  the 
stream,  he  espied  my  little  hoard,  covered  up  with  dog-leaves. 
He  saw  that  the  leaves  were  upside  down,  and  this,  of  course, 
drew  his  attention.  I  saw  him  stoop,  and  lay  bare  the  fish, 
and  the  eggs  set  a  little  way  from  them;  and  in  my  simple 
heart  I  thought,  that  now  he  knew  all  about  me.  But  to  my 
surprise,  he  seemed  well-i:>leased;  and  his  harsh  short  laugh- 
ter came  to  me  without  echo,  — - 


FEEDING   OF  THE  PIGS.  223 

"Ha,  ha!  Charlie  boy!  Fisherman  Charlie,  have  I  caught 
thee  setting  bait  for  Lorna  ?  Xow  1  iiuclerstand  thy  fishings, 
and  the  robbing  of  Counsellor's  hen  roost.  May  I  never  have 
good  roasting,  if  I  have  it  not  to-night,  and  roast  thee,  Charlie, 
afterwards !  " 

With  this  he  calmly  packed  up  my  fish,  and  all  the  best  of 
dear  Annie's  eggs;  and  went  away  chuckling  steadfastly,  to 
his  home,  if  one  may  call  it  so.  But  I  was  so  thoroughly 
grieved  and  stung,  by  this  most  impudent  robbery,  that  I 
started  forth  from  my  rocky  screen  with  the  intention  of  pur- 
suing him,  until  my  better  sense  arrested  me,  barely  in  time 
to  escape  his  eyes.  For  I  said  to  myself,  that  even  suppos- 
ing I  could  contend  unarmed  with  him,  it  would  be  the  greatest 
folly  in  the  world,  to  have  my  secret  access  known,  and  per- 
haps a  fatal  barrier  placed  between  Lorna  and  myself,  and  I 
knew  not  what  trouble  brought  upon  her,  all  for  the  sake  of  a 
few  eggs  and  fishes.  It  Avas  better  to  bear  this  trifling  loss, 
however  ignominious  and  goading  to  the  spirit,  than  to  risk 
my  love  and  Lorna's  welfare,  and  perhaps  be  shot  into  the 
bargain.  And  I  think  that  all  will  agree  with  me,  that  I 
acted  for  the  wisest,  in  withdrawing  to  my  shelter,  though 
deprived  of  eggs  and  fishes. 

Having  waited  (as  I  said)  until  there  was  no  chance  what- 
ever of  my  love  appearing,  I  hastened  homeward  very  sadly; 
and  the  wind  of  early  autumn  moaned  across  the  moorland. 
All  the  beauty  of  the  harvest,  all  the  gaiety  was  gone,  and  the 
early  fall  of  dusk  was  like  a  weight  upon  me.  Nevertheless, 
I  went,  every  evening  thenceforward  for  a  fortnight;  hoping, 
every  time  in  vain,  to  find  my  hope  and  comfort.  And  mean- 
while, what  perplexed  me  most  was  that  the  signals  were 
replaced,  in  order  as  agreed  upon,  so  that  Lorna  could  scarcely 
be  restrained  by  any  rigor. 

One  time,  I  had  a  narrow  chance  of  being  shot  and  settled 
with;  and  it  befell  me  thus.  I  was  waiting  very  carelessly, 
being  now  a  little  desperate,  at  the  entrance  to  the  glen, 
instead  of  watching  through  my  sight-hole,  as  the  proper 
practice  was.  Suddenly  a  ball  went  by  me,  with  a  whizz  and 
whistle,  passing  through  my  hat,  and  sweeping  it  away  all 
folded  up.  My  soft  hat  fluttered  far  down  the  stream,  before 
I  had  time  to  go  after  it,  and  with  the  help  of  both  wind  and 
water,  was  fifty  yards  gone  in  a  moment.  At  this,  I  had  just 
enough  mind  left,  to  shrink  back  very  suddenly,  and  lurk  very 
still  and  closely;  for  I  knew  what  a  narrow  escape  it  had 
been,   as   I   heard  the  bullet,  hard  set   by  the    powder,  sing 


224  LORNA   DOONE. 

mournfully  down  the  chasm,  like  a  drone  banished  out  of  the 
hive.  And  as  I  peered  through  my  little  cranny,  I  saw  a 
wreath  of  smoke  still  floating,  where  the  thickness  was  of  the 
withy -bed:  and  presently  Carver  Doone  came  forth,  having 
stopped  to  reload  his  piece  perhaps,  and  ran  very  swiftly  to 
the  entrance,  to  see  what  he  had  shot. 

Sore  trouble  had  I  to  keep  close  quarters,  from  the  slipperi- 
ness  of  the  stone  beneath  me,  with  the  water  sliding  over  it. 
My  foe  came  quite  to  the  verge  of  the  fall,  where  the  river 
began  to  comb  over;  and  there  he  stopped  for  a  minute  or  two, 
on  the  utmost  edge  of  dry  land,  upon  the  very  spot  indeed 
where  I  had  fallen  senseless,  when  1  clomb  it  in  my  boyhood. 
I  could  hear  him  breathing  hard  and  grunting,  as  in  doubt  and 
discontent,  for  he  stood  within  a  yard  of  me,  and  I  kept  my 
right  fist  ready  for  him,  if  he  should  discover  me.  Then  at 
the  foot  of  the  waterside,  my  black  hat  suddenly  appeared, 
tossing  in  white  foam,  and  fluttering  like  a  raven  wounded. 
Now  I  had  doubted  which  hat  to  take,  when  I  left  home  that 
day ;  till  I  thought  that  the  black  became  me  best,  and  might 
seem  kinder  to  Lorna. 

'^  Have  I  killed  thee,  old  bird,  at  last  ?  "  my  enemy  cried 
in  triumph;  "  'tis  the  third  time  I  have  shot  at  thee,  and  thou 
wast  beginning  to  mock  me.  No  more  of  thy  cursed  croaking 
now,  to  wake  me  in  the  morning.  Ha,  ha!  there  are  not 
many  who  get  three  chances  from  Carver  Doone;  and  none 
ever  go  beyond  it." 

I  laughed  within  myself  at  this,  as  he  strode  away  in  his 
triumph;  for  was  not  this  his  third  chance  of  me,  and  he  no 
whit  the  wiser  ?     And  then  I  thought  that  perhaps  the  chance  . 
might  some  day  be  on  the  other  side. 

For  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  heartily  tired  of  lurking  and 
playing  bo-peep  so  long;  to  which  nothing  could  have  recon- 
ciled me,  except  my  fear  for  Lorna.  And  here  I  saw  was  a 
man  of  strength  fit  for  me  to  encounter,  such  as  I  had  never 
met,  but  would  be  glad  to  meet  with ;  having  found  no  man  of 
late,  who  needed  not  my  mercy,  at  wrestling,  or  at  single- 
stick. And  growing  more  and  more  uneasy,  as  I  found  no 
Lorna,  I  would  have  tried  to  force  the  Doone  Glen  from  the 
upper  end,  and  take  my  chance  of  getting  back,  but  for  Annie 
and  her  prayers. 

jSTow  that  same  night  I  think  it  was,  or  at  any  rate  the  next 
one,  that  I  noticed  Betty  Muxworthy  going  on  most  strangely. 
She  made  the  queerest  signs  to  me,  when  nobody  was  looking, 
and  laid  her  fingers  on  her  lips,  and  pointed  over  her  shoul- 


FEEDING    OF  THE  PIGS.  225 

der.  But  I  took  little  heed  of  her,  being  in  a  kind  of  dudgeon, 
and  oppressed  with  evil  luck;  believing  too  that  all  she 
wanted,  was  to  have  some  little  grumble  about  some  petty 
grievance. 

But  presently  she  poked  me  with  the  heel  of  a  fire-bundle, 
and  passing  close  to  my  ear  whispered,  so  that  none  else  could 
hear  her,  "Larna  Doo-un." 

By  these  words  I  was  so  startled,  that  I  turned  round  and 
stared  at  her;  but  she  pretended  not  to  know  it,  and  began 
with  all  her  might  to  scour  an  empty  crock  with  a  besom. 

"  Oh,  Betty,  let  me  help  you !  That  work  is  much  too  hard 
for  you,"  I  cried  with  a  sudden  chivalry,  which  only  won 
rude  answer. 

"  Zeed  me  adooing  of  thic,  every  naight  last  ten  year,  Jan, 
wiout  vindin'  out  how  hard  it  wor.  But  if  zo  bee  thee  wants 
to  help,  carr  pegs'  bucket  for  me.  Massy,  if  I  ain't  forgotten 
to  fade  the  pegs  till  now." 

Favoring  me  with  another  wink,  to  which  I  now  paid  the 
keenest  heed,  Betty  went  and  fetched  the  lanthorn  from  the 
hook  inside  the  door.  Then  when  she  had  kindled  it,  not 
allowing  me  any  time  to  ask  what  she  was  after,  she  went  out- 
side, and  pointed  to  the  great  bock  of  wash,  and  riddlings,  and 
brown  hulkage  (for  we  ground  our  own  corn  always),  and 
though  she  knew  that  Bill  Dadds  and  Jem  Slocombe  had  full 
work  to  carry  it  on  a  pole  (with  another  to  help  to  sling  it), 
she  said  to  me  as  quietly  as  a  maiden  might  ask  one  to  carry 
a  glove,  "Jan  Ridd,  carr  thic  thing  for  me." 

So  I  carried  it  for  her,  witliout  any  words ;  wondering  what 
she  was  up  to  next,  and  whether  she  had  ever  heard  of  being 
too  hard  on  the  Avilling  horse.  And  when  we  came  to  hog- 
pound,  she  turned  upon  me  suddenly,  with  the  lanthorn  she 
was  bearing,  and  saw  that  I  had  the  bock  by  one  hand  very 
easily. 

"Jan  Ridd,"  she  said,  "there  be  no  other  man  in  England 
cud  a'dood  it.     Now  thee  shalt  have  Larna." 

While  I  was  wondering  how  my  chance  of  having  Lorna 
could  depend  upon  my  power  to  carry  pig's-wash,  and  how 
Betty  could  have  any  voice  in  the  matter  (which  seemed  to 
depend  upon  her  decision),  and  in  short,  while  I  was  all 
abroad  as  to  her  knowledge  and  every  thing,  the  pigs,  who  had 
been  fast  asleep  and  dreaming  in  their  emptiness,  awoke  with 
one  accord  at  the  goodness  of  the  smell  around  them.  They 
had  resigned  themselves,  as  even  pigs  do,  to  a  kind  of  fast, 
hoping  to  break  their  fast  more  sweetly  on  the  morrow  morn- 

VOL.   I.  —  15 


226  LOENA  BOONE. 

ing.  But  now  they  tumbled  out  all  headlong,  pigs  below  and 
l)igs  above,  pigs  point-blank  and  pigs  across,  pigs  courant  and 
pigs  rampant,  but  all  alike  prepared  to  eat,  and  all  in  good 
cadence  squeaking. 

"Tak  smarl  boocket,  and  bale  un  out;  Avad  'e  waste  sich 
stoof  as  thic  here  be?"  So  Betty  set  me  to  feed  the  pigs, 
while  she  held  the  lanthorn;  and  knowing  what  she  was,  I 
saw  that  she  would  not  tell  me  another  word,  until  all  the 
pigs  were  served.  And  in  truth  no  man  could  Avell  look  at 
them,  and  delay  to  serve  them,  they  were  all  expressing  appe- 
tite in  so  forcible  a  manner;  some  running  to  and  fro,  and 
rubbing,  and  squealing  as  if  from  starvation,  some  rushing 
down  to  the  oaken  troughs,  and  poking  each  other  away  from 
them ;  and  the  kindest  of  all  putting  up  their  fore-feet  on  the 
top  rail  of  the  hog-pound,  and  blinking  their  little  eyes,  and 
grunting  prettily  to  coax  us ;  as  who  should  say,  "  I  trust  you 
now;  you  will  be  kind,  I  know,  and  give  me  the  first  and  the 
very  best  of  it." 

"Oppen  ge-at  now,  wull  'e,  Jan?  Maind,  young  sow  wi' 
the  baible  back  arlway  hath  first  toorn  of  it,  'cos  I  brought 
her  up  on  my  lap,  I  did.  Zuck,  zuck,  zuck !  How  her  stickth 
her  tail  up ;  do  me  good  to  zee  un !  Now  thiccy  trough,  thee 
zany,  and  tak  thee  girt  legs  out  o'  the  wai.  Wish  they  wud 
gie  thee  a  good  baite,  mak  thee  hop  a  bit  vaster,  I  reckon. 
Hit  that  there  girt  ozebird  over's  back  wi'  the  broomstick,  he 
be  robbing  of  my  young  zow.  Choog,  choog,  choog!  and  a 
drap  more  left  in  the  dipping-pail." 

"Come  now,  Betty,"  I  said,  when  all  the  pigs  were  at  it, 
sucking,  swilling,  munching,  guzzling,  thrusting,  and  ousting, 
and  spilling  the  food  upon  the  backs  of  their  brethren  (as 
great  men  do  Avith  their  charity),  "come  now,  Betty,  how 
much  longer  am  I  to  wait  for  your  message  ?  Surely  I  am  as 
good  as  a  pig." 

"Dunno  as  thee  be,  Jan.  No  strakiness  in  thy  bakkon. 
And  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  Jan,  thee  zed,  a  wake  agone 
last  Vriday,  as  how  I  had  got  a  girt  be-ard.  Wull  'e  stick  to 
that  now,  Maister  Jan?  " 

"No,  no,  Betty,  certainly  not;  I  made  a  mistake  about  it. 
I  should  have  said  a  becoming  mustachio,  such  as  you  may 
well  be  proud  of." 

"Then  thee  be  a  laiar,  Jan  Kidd.  Zay  so,  laike  a  man, 
lad." 

"  Not  exactly  that,  Betty ;  but  I  made  a  great  mistake :  and 
I  humbly  ask  your  pardon;  and  if  such  a  thing  as  a  crown 
piece,  Betty " 


FEEDING   OF  THE  PIGS.  227 

"ISTo  fai,  no  fai!  "  said  Betty,  however  she  put  it  into  her 
pocket;  "now,  tak  my  advice,  Jan;  thee  marry  Zally  Snowe." 

"Xot  with  all  England  for  her  dowry.  Oh  Betty,  you 
know  better." 

"Ah's  me!  I  know  much  worse,  Jan.  Break  thy  poor 
mother's  heart  it  will.  And  to  think  of  arl'  the  dannger! 
Dost  love  Larna  now  so  much?" 

"  With  all  the  strength  of  my  heart  and  soul.  I  Avill  have 
her,  or  I  will  die,  Betty." 

"Wull.  Thee  will  die  in  aither  case.  But  it  baint  for  me 
to  argify.     And  do  her  love  thee  too,  Jan?  " 

"I  hope  she  does,  Betty.  I  hope  she  does.  What  do  you 
think  about  it?  " 

"  Ah,  then  I  may  hold  my  tongue  to  it.  Knaw  what  boys 
and  maidens  be,  as  well  as  I  knaw  young  pegs.  I  myzell 
been  o'  that  zort  one  taime,  every  bit  so  Avell  as  you  be." 
And  Betty  held  the  lanthorn  up,  and  defied  me  to  deny  it ;  and 
the  light  through  the  horn  showed  a  gleam  in  her  eyes,  such 
as  I  had  never  seen  there  before.  "Xo  odds,  no  odds  about 
that,"  she  continued;  "mak'  a  fool  of  myzell  to  spake  of  it. 
Arl  gone  into  churchyard.  But  it  be  a  lucky  foolery  for  thee, 
my  boy,  I  can  tull  'ee.  For  I  love  to  see  the  love  in  thee. 
Coom'th  over  me  as  the  spring  do,  though  I  be  naigh  three 
score.  Now,  Jan,  I  will  tell  thee  one  thing,  can't  abear  to 
zee  thee  vretting  so.  Hould  thee  head  down,  same  as  they 
pegs  do." 

So  I  bent  my  head  quite  close  to  her ;  and  she  whispered  in 
my  ear,  "Goo  of  a  marning,  thee  girt  soft.  Her  can't  get 
out  of  an  avening  now,  her  hath  zent  word  to  me,  to  tull  'ee." 

In  the  glory  of  my  delight  at  this,  I  bestowed  upon  Betty 
a  chaste  salute,  with  all  the  pigs  for  witnesses ;  and  she  took 
it  not  amiss,  considering  how  long  she  had  been  out  of  prac- 
tice. But  she  fell  back  then,  like  a  broom  on  its  handle,  and 
stared  at  me,  feigning  anger. 

"  Oh  fai,  oh  fai !  Lunnon  impudence,  I  doubt.  I  vear  thee 
hast  gone  on  zadly,  Jan." 


228  LOBNA  BOONE. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AX    EARLY    MORNING    CALL. 

Of  course  I  was  up  the  very  next  morning  before  the  Octo- 
ber sunrise,  and  away  through  the  wild  and  the  woodland 
towards  the  Bagworthy  water,  at  the  foot  of  the  long  cascade. 
The  rising  of  the  sun  was  noble  in  the  cold  and  warmth  of  it ; 
peeping  down  the  spread  of  light,  he  raised  his  shoulder 
heavily  over  the  edge  of  gray  mountain,  and  wavering  length 
of  upland.  Beneath  his  gaze  the  dew-fogs  dipped,  and  crept 
to  the  hollow  places;  then  stole  away  in  line  and  column, 
liolding  skirts,  and  clinging  subtly  at  the  sheltering  corners, 
where  rock  hung  over  grass-land;  while  the  brave  lines  of  the 
hills  came  forth,  one  beyond  other  gliding. 

Then  the  woods  arose  in  folds,  like  drapery  of  awakened 
mountains,  stately  with  a  depth  of  awe,  and  memory  of  the 
tempests.  Autumn's  mellow  hand  was  on  them,  as  they 
owned  already,  touched  with  gold,  and  red,  and  olive ;  and  their 
joy  towards  tlie  sun  was  less  to  a  bridegroom  than  a  father. 

Yet  before  the  floating  impress  of  the  woods  could  clear 
itself,  suddenly  the  gladsome  light  leaped  over  hill  and  valley, 
casting  amber,  blue,  and  purple,  and  a  tint  of  rich  red  rose, 
according  to  the  scene  they  lit  on,  and  the  curtain  flung  around; 
yet  all  alike  dispelling  fear  and  the  cloven  hoof  of  darkness, 
all  on  the  wings  of  hope  advancing,  and  proclaiming,  "  God  is 
here."  Then  life  and  joy  sprang  reassured  from  every  crouch- 
ing hollow;  every  flower,  and  bud,  and  bird,  had  a  fluttering 
sense  of  them;  and  all  the  flashing  of  God's  gaze  merged  into 
soft  beneflcence. 

So  perhaps  shall  break  upon  us  that  eternal  morning,  when 
crag  and  chasm  shall  be  no  more,  neither  hill  and  valley,  nor 
great  unvintaged  ocean;  when  glory  shall  not  scare  happi- 
ness, neither  happiness  envy  glory;  but  all  things  shall  arise 
and  shine  in  the  light  of  the  Father's  countenance,  because 
itself  is  risen. 

Who  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  upon  both  the  just  and  the 
unjust.  And  surely  but  for  the  saving  clause,  Doone  Glen  had 
been  in  darkness.  Now,  as  I  stood  with  scanty  breath  —  for 
few  men  could  have  won  that  climb  —  at  the  top  of  the  long 
defile,  and  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  gorge,  all  of  myself, 
and  the  pain  of  it,  and  the  cark  of  my  discontent  fell  away 


AN  EABLY  MORNING   CALL.  229 

into  wonder  and  rapture.  For  I  cannot  help  seeing  things 
now  and  then,  slow-witted  as  I  have  a  right  to  be;  and  per- 
haps because  it  comes  so  rarely,  the  sight  dwells  with  me, 
like  a  picture. 

The  bar  of  rock,  with  the  water-cleft  breaking  steeply- 
through  it,  stood  bold  and  bare,  and  dark  in  shadow,  gray  with 
red  gullies  down  it.  But  the  sun  was  beginning  to  glisten 
over  the  comb  of  the  eastern  highland,  and  through  an  arch- 
way of  the  wood  hung  with  old  nests  and  ivy.  The  lines  of 
many  a  leaning  tree  were  thrown,  from  the  cliffs  of  the  fore- 
land, down  upon  the  sparkling  grass,  at  the  foot  of  the  west- 
ern crags.  And  through  the  dewy  meadow's  breast,  fringed 
with  shade,  but  touched  on  one  side  with  the  sun-smile,  ran 
the  crystal  water,  curving  in  its  brightness,  like  diverted  hope. 

On  either  bank,  the  blades  of  grass,  making  their  last 
autumn  growth,  pricked  their  spears  and  crisped  their  tuftings 
with  the  pearly  purity.  The  tenderness  of  their  green  ap- 
peared under  the  glaucous  mantle;  while  that  gray  suffusion, 
which  is  the  blush  of  green  life,  spread  its  damask  chastity. 
Even  then  my  soul  was  lifted,  worried  though  my  mind  was : 
who  can  see  such  large  kind  doings,  and  not  be  ashamed  of 
selfish  grief  ? 

Not  only  unashamed  of  grief,  but  much  abashed  with  joy, 
was  I,  when  I  saw  my  Lorna  coming,  purer  than  the  miorning 
dew,  than  the  sun  more  bright  and  clear.  That  which  made 
me  love  her  so,  that  which  lifted  my  heart  to  her,  as  the  Spring 
wind  lifts  the  clouds,  was  the  gayness  of  her  nature,  and  its 
inborn  playfulness.  And  yet  all  this  with  maiden  shame,  a 
conscious  dream  of  things  unknown,  and  a  sense  of  fate  about 
them. 

Down  the  valley  still  she  came,  not  witting  that  I  looked  at 
her,  having  ceased  (through  my  own  misprision)  to  expect  me 
yet  awhile ;  or  at  least  she  told  herself  so.  In  the  joy  of  awak- 
ened life,  and  brightness  of  the  morning,  she  had  cast  all  care 
away,  and  seemed  to  float  upon  the  sunrise,  like  a  buoyant 
silver  wave.  Suddenly  at  sight  of  me,  for  I  leaped  forth  at 
once,  in  fear  of  seeming  to  watch  her  unawares,  the  bloom  upon 
her  cheeks  was  deepened,  and  the  radiance  of  her  eyes;  and 
she  came  to  meet  me  gladly. 

"At  last  then,  you  are  come,  John.  I  thought  you  had 
forgotten  me.  I  could  not  make  you  understand  —  they  have 
kept  me  prisoner  every  evening:  but  come  into  my  house; 
you  are  in  danger  here." 

Meanwhile  I  could  not  answer,  being  overcome  with  joy;  but 


230  .  LOBNA   BOONE. 

followed  to  her  little  grotto,  where  I  had  been  twice  before. 
I  knew  that  the  crowning  moment  of  my  life  was  coming  — 
that  Lorna  would  own  her  love  for  me. 

She  made  for  awhile  as  if  she  dreamed  not  of  the  meaning 
of  my  gaze,  but  tried  to  speak  of  other  things,  faltering  now 
and  then,  and  mantling  with  a  richer  damask  below  her  long 
eyelashes. 

"  This  is  not  what  I  came  to  know, "  I  whispered  very  softly ; 
"you  know  what  I  am  come  to  ask." 

"  If  you  are  come  on  purpose  to  ask  any  thing,  why  do  you 
delay  so?"  She  turned  away  very  bravely,  but  T  saw  that  her 
lips  were  trembling. 

"  I  delay  so  long,  because  I  fear ;  because  my  whole  life  hangs 
in  balance  on  a  single  word ;  because  what  I  have  near  me  now 
may  never  more  be  near  me  after,  though  more  than  all  the 
world,  or  than  a  thousand  worlds,  to  me."  As  I  spoke  these 
words  of  passion  in  a  low  soft  voice,  Lorna  trembled  more  and 
more;  but  she  made  no  answer,  neither  yet  looked  up  at  me. 

"I  have  loved  you  long  and  long,"  I  pursued,  being  reckless 
now ;  "  when  you  were  a  little  child,  as  a  boy  I  worshipped  you : 
then  when  I  saw  you  a  comely  girl,  as  a  stripling  I  adored  you: 
now  that  you  are  a  full-grown  maiden,  all  the  rest  I  do,  and 
more, —  I  love  you,  more  than  tongue  can  tell,  or  heart  can  hold 
in  silence.  I  have  waited  long  and  long;  and  though  I  am  so  far 
below  you,  I  can  wait  no  longer;  but  must  have  my  answer." 

"You  have  been  very  faithful,  John,"  she  murmured  to  the 
fern  and  moss;  "I  suppose  I  must  reward  you." 

"  That  will  not  do  for  me,"  I  said;  "  I  will  not  have  reluctant 
liking,  nor  assent  for  pity's  sake;  which  only  means  endurance. 
I  must  have  all  love,  or  none ;  I  must  have  your  heart  of  hearts ; 
even  as  you  have  mine,  Lorna." 

While  I  spoke,  she  glanced  up  shyly  through  her  fluttering 
lashes,  to  prolong  my  doubt  one  moment,  for  her  own  delicious 
pride.  Then  she  opened  wide  upon  me  all  the  glorious  depth 
and  softness  of  her  loving  eyes,  and  flung  both  arms  around 
my  neck,  and  answered  with  her  heart  on  mine  — 

"  Darling,  you  have  won  it  all.  I  shall  never  be  my  own 
again.     I  am  yours,  my  own  one,  for  ever  and  for  ever." 

I^am  sure  I  know  not  what  I  did,  or  what  I  said  thereafter, 
being  overcome  with  transport  by  her  words  and  at  her  gaze. 
Only  one  thing  I  remember,  when  she  raised  her  bright  lips 
to  me,  like  a  child,  for  me  to  kiss,  such  a  smile  of  sweet  temp- 
tation met  me  through  her  flowing  hair,  that  I  almost  forgot 
my  manners,  giving  her  no  time  to  breathe. 


TWO  NEGATIVES   MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       231 

"That  will  do,"  said  Lorna  gently,  but  violently  blushing; 
"  for  the  present  that  will  do,  John.  And  now  remember  one 
thing,  dear.  All  the  kindness  is  to  be  on  my  side ;  and  you 
are  to  be  very  distant,  as  behoves  to  a  young  maiden;  except 
when  I  invite  you.  But  you  may  kiss  my  hand,  John;  oh  yes, 
you  may  kiss  my  hand,  you  know.  Ah  to  be  sure !  I  had  for- 
gotten ;  how  very  stupid  of  me !  " 

For  by  this  I  had  taken  one  sweet  hand  and  gazed  on  it,  with 
the  pride  of  all  the  world  to  think  that  such  a  lovely  thing  was 
mine;  and  then  I  slipped  my  little  ring  upon  the  wedding 
finger;  and  this  time  Lorna  kept  it,  and  looked  with  fondness 
on  its  beauty,  and  clung  to  me  with  a  flood  of  tears. 

"Every  time  you  cry,"  said  I,  drawing  her  closer  to  me,  "I 
shall  consider  it  an  invitation  not  to  be  too  distant.  There 
now,  none  shall  make  you  weep.  Darling,  you  shall  sigh  no 
more,  but  live  in  peace  and  happiness,  with  me  to  guard  and 
cherish  you :  and  who  shall  dare  to  vex  you?  "  But  she  drew 
a  long  sad  sigh,  and  looked  at  the  ground  with  the  great  tears 
rolling,  and  pressed  one  hand  upon  the  trouble  of  her  pure 
young  breast. 

"It  can  never,  never,  be,"  she  murmured  to  herself  alone : 
"  AVho  am  I,  to  dream  of  it?  Something  in  my  heart  tells  me, 
it  can  be  so  never,  never." 


CHAPTEE  XXXiy. 

TWO    NEGATIVES    MAKE    AN    AFFIRMATIVE. 

There  was,  however,  no  possibility  of  depressing  me  at  such 
a  time.  To  be  loved  by  Lorna,  the  sweet,  the  pure,  the  play- 
ful one,  the  fairest  creature  on  God's  earth  and  the  most 
enchanting,  the  lady  of  high  birth  and  mind ;  that  I,  a  mere 
clumsy  blundering  yeoman,  without  wit,  or  wealth,  or  lineage, 
should  have  won  that  loving  heart  to  be  my  own  for  ever,  was 
a  thought  no  fears  could  lessen,  and  no  chance  could  steal 
from  me. 

Therefore,  at  her  own  entreaty  taking  a  very  quick  adieu, 
and  by  her  own  invitation  an  exceeding  kind  one,  I  hurried 
home  with  deep  exulting,  yet  some  sad  misgivings,  for  Lorna 
had  made  me  promise  now  to  tell  my  mother  every  thing;  as 
indeed  I  always  meant  to  do,  when  my  suit  should  be  gone  too 
far  to  stop.     I  knew  of  course  that  my  dear  mother  would  be 


232  LORNA   DOONE. 

greatly  moved  and  vexed,  the  heirship  of  Glen  Doone  not  being 
a  very  desirable  dower;  but  in  spite  of  that,  and  all  disap- 
pointment as  to  little  Ruth  Huckaback,  feeling  my  mother's 
tenderness  and  deep  affection  to  me,  and  forgiving  nature,  I 
doubted  not  that  before  very  long  she  would  view  the  matter 
as  I  did.  Moreover  I  felt  that  if  once  I  could  get  her  only  to 
look  at  Lorna,  she  would  so  love  and  glory  in  her,  that  I  should 
obtain  all  praise  and  thanks,  perchance  without  deserving  them. 

Unluckily  for  my  designs,  who  should  be  sitting  down  at 
breakfast  with  my  mother  and  the  rest  but  Squire  Faggus,  as 
everybody  now  began  to  entitle  him?  I  noticed  something  odd 
about  him,  something  uncomfortable  in  his  manner,  and  a  lack 
of  that  ease  and  humor,  which  had  been  wont  to  distinguish 
him.  He  took  his  breakfast  as  it  came,  without  a  single  joke 
about  it,  or  preference  of  this  to  that;  but  with  sly  soft  looks 
at  Annie,  who  seemed  unable  to  sit  quiet,  or  to  look  at  any  one 
steadfastly.  I  feared  in  my  heart  what  was  coming  on,  and 
felt  truly  sorry  for  poor  mother.  After  breakfast  it  became 
my  duty  to  see  to  the  ploughing  of  a  barley-stubble  ready  for 
the  sowing  of  French  grass,  and  I  asked  Tom  Faggus  to  come 
with  me;  but  he  refused,  and  I  knew  the  reason.  Being 
resolved  to  allow  him  fair  field  to  himself,  though  with  great, 
displeasure  that  a  man  of  such  illegal  repute  should  marry  into 
our  family,  which  had  always  been  counted  so  honest,  I  carried 
my  dinner  upon  my  back,  and  spent  the  whole  day  with  the 
furrows. 

When  I  returned,  Squire  Faggus  was  gone ;  which  appeared 
to  me  but  a  sorry  sign,  inasmuch  as  if  mother  had  taken  kindly 
to  him  and  to  his  intentions,  she  would  surely  have  made  him 
remain  awhile  to  celebrate  the  occasion.  And  presently  no 
doubt  was  left:  for  Lizzie  came  running  to  meet  me,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  woodrick,  and  cried, — 

"  Oh  John,  there  is  such  a  business.  Mother  is  in  such  a 
state  of  mind,  and  Annie  crying  her  eyes  out.  What  do  you 
think?  You  never  would  guess ;  though  I  have  suspected  it, 
ever  so  long." 

"No  need  for  me  to  guess,"  I  replied,  as  though  with  some 
indifference,  because  of  her  self-important  air;  "I  knew  all 
about  it  long  ago.  You  have  not  been  crying  much,  I  see.  I 
should  like  you  better,  if  you  had." 

"Why  should  I  cry?  I  like  Tom  Faggus.  He  is  the  only 
one  I  ever  see  with  the  spirit  of  a  man." 

This  was  a  cut,  of  course,  at  me.  Mr.  Faggus  had  won  the 
good  will  of  Lizzie  by  his  hatred  of  the  Doones,  and  vows  that 


TWO  NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       233 

if  lie  could  get  a  dozen  men  of  any  courage  to  join  him,  he 
would  pull  their  stronghold  about  their  ears  without  any  more 
ado.  This  malice  of  his  seemed  strange  to  me,  as  he  had  never 
suffered  at  their  hands,  so  far  at  least  as  I  knew;  was  it  to  be 
attributed  to  his  jealousy  of  outlaws  who  excelled  him  in  his 
business?  Not  being  good  at  repartee,  I  made  no  answer  to 
Lizzie,  having  found  this  course  more  irksome  to  her  than  the 
very  best  invective :  and  so  we  entered  the  house  together ;  and 
mother  sent  at  once  for  me,  while  I  was  trying  to  console  my 
darling  sister  Annie. 

"Oh,  John!  speak  one  good  word  for  me,"  she  cried,  with 
both  hands  laid  in  mine,  and  her  tearful  eyes  looking  up  at  me. 

"Not  one,  my  pet,  but  a  hundred,"  I  answered,  kindly 
embracing  her :  "  have  no  fear,  little  sister :  I  am  going  to  make 
your  case  so  bright,  by  comparison  I  mean,  that  mother  will  send 
for  you  in  five  minutes,  and  call  you  her  best,  her  most  duti- 
ful child,  and  praise  Cousin  Tom  to  the  skies,  and  send  a  man 
on  horseback  after  him ;  and  then  you  will  have  a  harder  task 
to  intercede  for  me,  my  dear." 

"Oh  John,  dear  John,  you  won't  tell  her  about  Lorna  —  oh 
not  to-day,  dear." 

"  Yes,  to-day,  and  at  once,  Annie.  I  want  to  have  it  over, 
and  be  done  with  it." 

"  Oh,  but  think  of  her,  dear.  I  am  sure  she  could  not  bear 
it,  after  this  great  shock  already." 

"  She  will  bear  it  all  the  better,"  said  I;  "the  one  will  drive 
the  other  out.  I  know  exactly  what  mother  is.  She  will  be 
desperately  savage  first  with  you,  and  then  with  me,  and  then 
for  a  very  little  while  with  both  of  us  together;  and  then  she 
will  put  one  against  the  other  (in  her  mind  I  mean)  and  con- 
sider which  was  most  to  blame;  and  in  doing  that  she  will  be 
compelled  to  find  the  best  in  cither's  case,  that  it  may  beat  the 
other;  and  so  as  the  pleas  come  before  her  mind,  they  will  gain 
upon  the  charges,  both  of  us  being  her  children,  you  know: 
and  before  very  long  (particularly  if  we  both  keep  out  of  the 
way)  she  will  begin  to  think  that  after  all  she  has  been  a  little 
too  hasty;  and  then  she  will  remember  how  good  we  have 
always  been  to  her;  and  how  like  our  father.  Upon  that,  she 
will  think  of  her  own  love-time,  and  sigh  a  good  bit,  and  cry 
a  little,  a^d  then  smile,  and  send  for  both  of  us,  and  beg  our 
pardon,  and  call  us  her  two  darlings." 

"Now,  John,  how  on  earth  can  you  know  all  that?"  ex- 
clp.imed  my  sister,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  gazing  at  me  with  a 
soft  bright  smile.     "Who  on  earth  can  have  told  you,  John? 


234  LOBNA   BOONE. 

People  to  call  you  stupid  indeed!  Why,  I  feel  that  all  you 
say  is  quite  true,  because  you  describe  so  exactly  what  I  should 
do  myself;  I  mean  —  I  mean  if  I  had  two  children,  who  have 
behaved  as  we  have  done.  But  tell  nie,  darling  John,  how  you 
learned  all  this." 

"Never  you  mind,"  I  replied,  with  a  nod  of  some  conceit,  I 
fear :  "  I  must  be  a  fool  if  I  did  not  know  what  mother  is  l3y 
this  time." 

Now  inasmuch  as  the  thing  befell  according  to  my  predic- 
tion, what  need  for  me  to  dwell  upon  it,  after  saying  how  it 
would  be?  Moreover  I  would  regret  to  write  down  what 
mother  said  about  Lorna,  in  her  first  surprise  and  tribulation ; 
not  only  because  I  was  grieved  by  the  gross  injustice  of  it, 
and  frightened  mother  with  her  own  words  (repeated  deeply 
after  her) ;  but  rather  because  it  is  not  well,  when  people 
repent  of  hasty  speech,  to  enter  it  against  them. 

That  is  said  to  be  the  angels'  business;  and  I  doubt  if  they 
can  attend  to  it  much,  without  doing  injury  to  themselves. 

However,  by  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  began  to  go  down 
upon  us,  our  mother  sat  on  the  garden  bench,  Avith  her  head  on 
my  great  otter-skin  waistcoat  (which  was  waterproof),  and  her 
right  arm  round  our  Annie's  waist,  and  scarcely  knowing  which 
of  us  she  ought  to  make  the  most  of,  or  which  deserved  most 
pity.  Not  that  she  had  forgiven  yet  the  rivals  to  her  love  — 
Tom  Faggus,  I  mean,  and  Lorna, —  but  that  she  was  beginning 
to  think  a  little  better  of  them  now,  and  a  vast  deal  better  of 
her  own  children. 

And  it  helped  her  much  in  this  regard,  that  she  was  not 
thinking  half  so  well  as  usual  of  herself,  or  rather  of  her  own 
judgment;  for  in  good  truth  she  had  no  self,  only  as  it  came 
home  to  her,  by  no  very  distant  road,  but  by  way  of  her  chil- 
dren. A  better  mother  never  lived;  and  can  I,  after  searching 
all  things,  add  another  word  to  that? 

And  indeed  poor  Lizzie  was  not  so  very  bad;  but  behaved 
(on  the  whole)  very  well  for  her.  She  was  much  to  be  pitied, 
poor  thing,  and  great  allowances  made  for  her,  as  belonging  to 
a  well-grown  family,  and  a  very  comely  one;  and  feeling  her 
own  shortcomings.  This  made  her  leap  to  tlie  other  extreme, 
and  reassert  herself  too  much,  endeavoring  to  exalt  the  mind  at 
the  expense  of  the  body ;  because  she  had  the  invisible  one  (so 
far  as  can  be  decided)  in  better  share  than  the  visible.  Not 
but  what  she  had  her  points,  and  very  comely  points  of  body ; 
lovely  eyes  to  wit,  and  very  beautiful  hands  and  feet  (almost 
as  good  as  Lorna's),  and  a  neck  as  white  as  snow;  but  Lizzie 
was  not  gifted  with  our  gait  and  port,  and  bounding  health. 


TWO  NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       235 

Xow,  while  vre  sate  on  the  garden  bench,  under  the  great 
ash-tree,  we  left  dear  mother  to  take  her  own  way,  and  talk  at 
her  own  pleasure.  Children  almost  always  are  more  wide- 
awake than  their  parents.  The  fathers  and  the  mothers  laugh ; 
but  the  young  ones  have  the  best  of  them.  And  now  both 
Annie  knew,  and  I,  that  we  had  gotten  the  best  of  mother; 
and  therefore  we  let  her  lay  down  the  law,  as  if  we  had  been 
two  dollies. 

"Darling  John,"  my  mother  said,  "your  case  is  a  very  hard 
one.  A  young  and  very  romantic  girl  —  God  send  that  I  be 
right  in  my  charitable  view  of  her  —  has  met  an  equally  simple 
boy,  among  great  dangers  and  difficulties,  from  which  my  son 
has  saved  her,  at  the  risk  of  his  life  at  every  step.  Of  course, 
she  became  attached  to  him,  and  looked  up  to  him  in  every 
way,  as  a  superior  being " 

"  Come  now,  mother, "  I  said ;  "  if  you  only  saw  Lorna,  you 
would  look  upon  me  as  the  lowest  dirt " 

"  No  doubt  I  should, "  my  mother  answered ;  "  and  the  king, 
and  queen,  and  all  the  royal  family.  Well,  this  poor  angel, 
having  made  up  her  mind  to  take  compassion  on  my  son,  when 
he  had  saved  her  life  so  many  times,  persuades  him  to  marry 
her  out  of  pure  pity,  and  throw  his  poor  mother  overboard. 
And  the  saddest  part  of  it  all  is  this " 

"That  my  mother  will  never,  never,  never  understand  the 
truth,"  said  I. 

"That  is  all  I  wish,"  she  answered;  "just  to  get  at  the 
simple  truth  from  my  own  perception  of  it.  John,  you  are 
very  wise  in  kissing  me ;  but  perhaps  you  would  not  be  so  Avise 
in  bringing  Lorna  for  an  afternoon,  just  to  see  what  she  thinks 
of  me.  There  is  a  good  saddle  of  nmtton  now;  and  there  are 
some  very  good  sausages  left,  on  the  blue  dish  with  the  anchor, 
Annie,  from  the  last  little  sow  we  killed. " 

"  As  if  Lorna  would  eat  sausages !  "  said  I,  with  appearance 
of  high  contempt,  though  rejoicing  all  the  while  that  mother 
seemed  to  have  her  name  so  pat;  and  she  pronounced  it  in  a 
manner  which  made  my  heart  leap  to  my  ears :  "  Lorna  to  eat 
sausages ! " 

"I  don't  see  why  she  shouldn't,"  my  mother  answered  smil- 
ing; "if  she  means  to  be  a  farmer's  wife,  she  must  take  to 
farmer's  ways,  I  think.     What  do  you  say,  Annie?" 

"She  will  eat  whatever  John  desires,  I  should  hope,"  said 
Annie  gravely;   "particularly  as  I  made  them." 

"Oh  that  I  could  onl}^  get  the  chance  of  trying  her!"  I 
answered;  "if  vou  could  once  behold  her,  mother,  you  would 


236  LORNA   DOONE. 

never  let  her  go  again.  And  she  would  love  you  with  all  her 
heart,  she  is  so  good  and  gentle." 

"  That  is  a  lucky  thing  for  me ;  "  saying  this  my  mother  wept, 
as  she  had  been  doing  off  and  on,  when  no  one  seemed  to  look 
at  her ;  "  otherwise  I  suppose,  John,  she  would  very  soon  turn 
me  out  of  the  farm,  having  you  so  completely  under  her  thumb, 
as  she  seems  to  have.  I  see  now  that  my  time  is  over.  Lizzie 
and  I  will  seek  our  fortunes.     It  is  wiser  so." 

"Now,  mother,"  I  cried;  "will  you  have  the  kindness  not 
to  talk  any  nonsense?  Every  thing  belongs  to  you;  and  so,  I 
hope,  your  children  do.  And  you,  in  turn,  belong  to  us;  as 
you  have  proved  ever  since, —  oh,  ever  since  we  can  remember. 
Why  do  you  make  Annie  cry  so?  You  ought  to  know  better 
than  that." 

Mother  upon  this  went  over  again  all  the  things  she  had  said 
before;  how  many  times  I  know  not;  neither  does  it  matter. 
Only  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it  more,  every  time  of  doing  it.  And 
then  she  said  she  was  an  old  fool ;  and  Annie  (like  a  thorough 
girl)  pulled  her  one  gray  hair  out. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

RUTH    IS    NOT    LIKE    LORXA. 

Although  by  our  mother's  reluctant  consent  a  large  part  of 
the  obstacles  between  Annie  and  her  lover  appeared  to  be 
removed,  on  the  other  hand  Lorna  and  myself  gained  little, 
except  as  regarded  comfort  of  mind,  and  some  ease  to  the  con- 
science. Moreover,  our  chance  of  frequent  meetings  and 
delightful  converse  was  much  impaired,  at  least  for  the  pres- 
ent; because  though  mother  was  not  aware  of  my  narrow  escape 
from  Carver  Doone,  she  made  me  promise  never  to  risk  my  life 
by  needless  visits.  And  upon  this  point,  that  is  to  say,  the 
necessity  of  the  visit,  she  was  well  content,  as  she  said,  to 
leave  me  to  my  own  good  sense  and  honor ;  only  begging  me 
always  to  tell  her  of  my  intention  beforehand.  This  pledge, 
however,  for  her  own  sake,  I  declined  to  give;  knowing  how 
wretched  she  would  be  during  all  the  time  of  my  absence ;  and 
in  that  behalf,  I  j)romised  freely,  that  I  would  always  give  her 
a  full  account  of  my  adventure  upon  returning. 

Now  my  mother,  as  might  be  expected,  began  at  once  to  cast 
about  for  some  means  of  relieving  me  from  all  further  peril,  and 


RUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORN  A.  237 

herself  from  great  anxiety.  She  was  full  of  plans  for  fetching 
Lorna,  in  some  wonderful  manner,  out  of  the  power  of  the 
Doones  entirely,  and  into  her  own  hands,  where  she  was  to 
remain  for  at  least  a  twelvemonth,  learning  all  mother  and 
Annie  could  teach  her  of  dairy  business,  and  farm-house  life, 
and  the  best  mode  of  packing  butter.  And  all  this  arose  from 
my  happening  to  say,  without  meaning  any  thing,  how  the  poor 
dear  had  longed  for  quiet,  and  a  life  of  simplicity,  and  a  rest 
away  from  violence !  Bless  thee,  mother  —  now  long  in  heaven, 
there  is  no  need  to  bless  thee ;  but  it  often  makes  a  dimness 
now  in  my  well-worn  eyes,  when  I  think  of  thy  loving-kind- 
ness, warmth,  and  romantic  innocence. 

As  to  stealing  ni}^  beloved  from  that  vile  Glen  Doone,  the 
deed  itself  was  not  impossible,  nor  beyond  my  daring;  but  in 
the  first  place  would  she  come,  leaving  her  old  grandfather  to 
die  without  her  tendance?  And  even  if,  through  fear  of  Carver 
and  that  wicked  Counsellor,  she  should  consent  to  fly,  would 
it  be  possible  to  keep  her  without  a  regiment  of  soldiers? 
Would  not  the  Doones  at  once  ride  forth  to  scour  the  country 
for  their  queen,  and  finding  her  (as  they  must  do)  burn  our 
house,  and  murder  us,  and  carry  her  back  triumphantly? 

All  this  I  laid  before  my  mother,  and  to  such  effect,  that  she 
acknowledged,  with  a  sigh,  that  nothing  else  remained  for  me 
(in  the  present  state  of  matters)  except  to  keep  a  careful  watch 
upon  Lorna  from  safe  distance,  observe  the  policy  of  the  Doones, 
and  wait  for  a  tide  in  their  affairs.  Meanwhile  I  might  even 
fall  in  love  (as  mother  wisely  hinted)  with  a  certain  more 
peaceful  heiress,  although  of  inferior  blood,  who  would  be 
daily  at  my  elbow.  I  am  not  sure  but  what  dear  mother  her- 
self would  have  been  disappointed,  had  I  proved  myself  so 
fickle ;  and  my  disdain  and  indignation  at  the  mere  suggestion 
did  not  so  much  displease  her;  for  she  only  smiled  and 
answered :  — 

"Well,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say;  God  knows  what  is  good  for 
us.  Likings  will  not  come  to  order;  otherwise  I  should  not 
be  where  I  am  this  day.  And  of  one  thing  I  am  rather  glad; 
Uncle  Eeuben  well  deserves  that  his  pet  scheme  should  mis- 
carry. He  who  called  my  boy  a  coward,  an  ignoble  coward, 
because  he  would  not  join  some  crack-brained  plan  against  the 
valley,  which  sheltered  his  beloved  one!  And  all  the  time 
this  dreadful  'coward'  risking  his  life  daily  there,  without  a 
word  to  any  one !  How  glad  I  am  that  you  will  not  have,  for 
all  her  miserable  money,  that  little  dwarfish  grand-daughter  of 
tlie  insolent  old  miser!  " 


238  LORNA   BOONE. 

Slie  turned,  and  by  her  side  was  standing  poor  Ruth  Hucka- 
back herself,  white,  and  sad,  and  looking  steadily  at  my 
mother's  face,  which  became  as  red  as  a  plum,  while  her  breath 
deserted  her. 

"If  you  please,  madam,"  said  the  little  maiden,  with  her 
large  calm  eyes  unwavering,  "it  is  not  my  fault,  but  God 
Almighty's  that  I  am  a  little  dwarfish  creature.  I  knew  not 
that  you  regarded  me  with  so  much  contempt  on  that  account; 
neither  have  you  told  my  grandfather,  at  least  within  my  hear- 
ing, that  he  was  an  insolent  old  miser.  When  I  return  to 
Dulverton,  which  I  trust  to  do  to-morrow  (for  it  is  too  late 
to-day),  I  shall  be  careful  not  to  tell  him  your  opinion  of  him, 
lest  I  should  thwart  any  schemes  you  may  have  upon  his  prop- 
erty. I  thank  you  all  for  your  kindness  to  me,  which  has  been 
very  great;  far  more  than  a  little  dwarfish  creature  could,  for 
her  own  sake,  expect.  I  will  only  add  for  your  further  guid- 
ance, one  more  little  truth.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  my 
grandfather  will  settle  any  of  his  miserable  money  upon  me. 
If  I  offend  him,  as  I  would  in  a  moment,  for  the  sake  of  a  brave 
and  straightforward  man  "  —  here  she  gave  me  a  glance  which 
I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  —  "  my  grandfather,  upright 
as  he  is,  would  leave  me  without  a  shilling.  And  I  often 
wish  it  were  so.     So  many  miseries  come  upon  me  from  the 

miserable  money " Here  she  broke  down,  and  burst  out 

crying,  and  ran  away  with  a  faint  good-bye;  while  we  three 
looked  at  one  another,  and  felt  that  we  had  the  worst  of  it. 

"  Impudent  little  dwarf !  "  said  my  mother,  recovering  her 
breath  after  ever  so  long.  "Oh  John,  how  thankful  you 
ought  to  be !     What  a  life  she  would  have  led  you !  " 

"Well,  I  am  sure!  "  said  Annie,  throwing  her  arms  around 
poor  mother :  "  who  could  have  thought  that  little  atomy  had 
such  an  outrageous  spirit !  For  my  part,  I  cannot  think  how 
she  can  have  been  sly  enough  to  hide  it  in  that  crafty  manner, 
that  John  might  think  her  an  angel !  " 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  I  answered,  laughing,  "I  never  ad- 
mired Ruth  Huckaback  half,  or  a  quarter  so  much,  before. 
She  is  rare  stuff.  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have  married 
her  to-morrow,  if  I  had  never  seen  my  Lorna." 

"  And  a  nice  nobody  I  should  have  been,  in  my  own  house !  " 
cried  mother:  "I  never  can  be  thankful  enough  to  darling 
Lorna  for  saving  me.     Did  you  see  how  her  eyes  flashed?  " 

"That  I  did;  and  very  fine  they  were.  Now  nine  maidens 
out  of  ten  would  have  feigned  not  to  have  heard  one  word 
that  was  said,  and  havo  borne  black  malice  in  their  hearts. 
Come,  Annie,  now,  would  not  you  have  done  so?" 


BUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORN  A.  239 

"  I  think, "  said  Annie,  "  although  of  course  I  cannot  tell, 
you  know,  John,  that  I  should  have  been  ashamed  at  hearing 
what  was  never  meant  for  me,  and  should  have  been  almost  as 
angry  with  myself  as  any  body." 

''So  you  would,"  replied  my  mother;  "so  any  daughter  of 
mine  would  have  done,  instead  of  railing  and  reviling.  How- 
ever, I  am  very  sorry  that  any  words  of  mine,  which  the  poor 
little  thing  chose  to  overhear,  should  have  made  her  so  forget 
herself.  1  shall  beg  her  pardon  before  she  goes;  and  I  shall 
expect  her  to  beg  mine." 

"That  she  will  never  do,"  said  I;  "a  more  resolute  little 
maiden  never  yet  had  right  upon  her  side ;  although  it  was  a 
mere  accident.  I  might  have  said  the  same  thing  myself; 
and  she  was  hard  upon  you,  mother  dear." 

After  this  we  said  no  more,  at  least  about  that  matter;  and 
little  Ruth,  the  next  morning,  left  us,  in  spite  of  all  that  we 
could  do.  She  vowed  an  everlasting  friendship  to  my  younger 
sister  Eliza;  but  she  looked  at  Annie  with  some  resentment, 
when  they  said  good-bye,  for  being  so  much  taller.  At  any 
rate  so  Annie  fancied,  but  she  may  have  been-  quite  wrong. 
I  rode  beside  the  little  maid  till  far  beyond  Exeford,  when  all 
danger  of  the  moor  was  past,  and  then  I  left  her  with  John 
Fry,  not  wishing  to  be  too  particular,  after  all  the  talk  about 
her  money.  She  had  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  bade  me  fare- 
well, and  she  sent  a  kind  message  home  to  mother,  and  prom- 
ised to  come  again  at  Christmas,  if  she  could  win  permission. 

Upon  the  whole,  my  opinion  was  that  she  had  behaved 
uncommonly  well  for  a  maid  whose  self-love  was  outraged; 
with  spirit,  I  mean,  and  proper  pride;  and  yet  with  a  great 
endeavor  to  forgive,  which  is,  meseems,  the  hardest  of  all 
things  to  a  woman,  outside  of  her  own  family. 

After  this,  for  another  month,  nothing  worthy  of  notice 
happened,  except  perhaps  that  I  found  it  needful,  according, 
to  the  strictest  good  sense  and  honor,  to  visit  Lorna,  im- 
mediately after  my  discourse  with  mother,  and  to  tell  her  all 
about  it.  My  beauty  gave  me  one  sweet  kiss  with  all  her 
heart  (as  she  always  did,  when  she  kissed  at  all)  and  I  begged 
for  one  more  to  take  to  our  mother,  and  before  leaving,  I 
obtained  it.  It  is  not  for  me  to  tell  all  she  said,  even  sup- 
posing (what  is  not  likely)  that  any  one  cared  to  know  it,  being 
more  and  more  peculiar  to  ourselves  and  no  one  else.  But 
one  thing  that  she  said  was  this,  and  I  took  good  care  to  carry 
it,  word  for  word,  to  my  mother  and  Annie :  — 

"I  never  can  believe,  dear  John,   that  after  all  the  crime 


240  LORNA  JDOONE. 

and  outrage  Avrought  by  my  reckless  family,  it  ever  can  be 
meant  for  me  to  settle  down  to  peace  and  comfort  in  a  simple 
household.  With  all  my  heart  I  long  for  home ;  any  home, 
however  dull  and  wearisome  to  those  used  to  it,  would  seem 
a  paradise  to  me,  if  only  free  from  brawl  and  tumult,  and  such 
as  I  could  call  my  own.  But  even  if  God  would  allow  me 
this,  in  lieu  of  my  wild  inheritance,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
the  Doones  never  can,  and  never  will." 

Again,  when  I  told  her  how  my  mother  and  Annie,  as  well 
as  myself,  longed  to  have  her  at  Plover's  Barrows,  and  teach 
her  all  the  quiet  duties  in  which  she  was  sure  to  take  such 
delight,  she  only  answered  with  a  bright  blush,  that  while  her 
grandfather  was  living  she  would  never  leave  him;  and  that 
even  if  she  Avere  free,  certain  ruin  was  all  she  should  bring  to 
any  house  that  received  her,  at  least  within  the  utmost  reach 
of  her  amiable  family.  This  was  too  plain  to  be  denied,  and 
seeing  my  dejection  at  it,  she  told  me  bravely  that  we  must 
hope  for  better  times,  if  possible,  and  asked  how  long  I 
would  wait  for  her. 

"jS^ot  a  day  if  I  had  my  will,"  i  answered  very  warmly;  at 
which  she  turned  away  confused,  and  would  not  look  at  me 
for  awhile;  "but  all  my  life,"  I  went  on  to  say,  "if  my  fort- 
une is  so  ill.     And  how  long  would  you  wait  for  me,  Lorna?" 

"Till  I  could  get  you,"  she  answered  slily,  with  a  smile 
which  was  brighter  to  me  than  the  brightest  wit  could  be. 
"And  now,"  she  continued,  "you  bound  me,  John,  with  a  very 
beautiful  ring  to  you,  and  when  I  dare  not  wear  it,  I  carry  it 
always  on  my  heart.  But  I  will  bind  you  to  me,  you  dearest, 
with  the  very  poorest  and  plainest  thing  that  ever  you  set  eyes 
on.  I  could  give  you  fifty  fairer  ones,  but  they  would  not 
be  honest ;  and  I  love  you  for  your  honesty,  and  nothing  else 
of  course,  John;  so  don't  you  be  conceited.  Look  at  it,  what 
g.  queer  old  thing!  There  are  some  ancient  marks  upon  it, 
very  grotesque  and  wonderful;  it  looks  like  a  cat  in  a  tree 
almost;  but  never  mind  what  it  looks  like.  This  old  ring 
must  have  been  a  giant's;  therefore  it  will  fit  you  perhaps, 
you  enormous  John.  It  has  been  on  the  front  of  my  old  glass 
necklace  (which  my  grandfather  found  them  taking  away,  and 
very  soon  made  them  give  back  again)  ever  since  I  can  remem- 
ber; and  long  before  that,  as  some  woman  told  me.  Now  you 
seem  very  greatly  amazed;  pray  what  thinks  my  lord  of  it?  " 

"  That  it  is  worth  fifty  of  the  pearl  thing  which  I  gave  you, 
you  darling;  and  that  I  will  not  take  it  from  you." 

"Then  you  will  never  take  me,  that  is  all.  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  a  gentleman " 


RUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORNA.  241 

"'No  gentleman,  dear  —  a  yeoman." 

"  Very  well,  a  yeoman  —  nothing  to  do  with  a  yeoman  who 
will  not  accept  my  love -gage.  So,  if  you  please,  give  it  back 
again,  and  take  your  lovely  ring  back." 

She  looked  at  me  in  such  a  manner,  half  in  earnest,  half  in 
jest,  and  three  times  three  in  love,  that  in  spite  of  all  good 
resolutions,  and  her  own  faint  protest,  I  was  forced  to  aban- 
don all  firm  ideas,  and  kiss  her  till  she  was  quite  ashamed, 
and  her  head  hung  on  my  bosom,  with  the  night  of  her  hair 
shed  over  me.  Then  I  placed  the  pearl  ring  back  on  the  soft 
elastic  bend  of  the  finger  she  held  up  to  scold  me ;  and  on  my 
own  smallest  finger  drew  the  heavy  hoop  she  had  given  me. 
I  considered  this  with  satisfaction,  until  my  darling  recovered 
herself;  and  then  I  began  very  gravely  about  it,  to  keep  her 
(if  I  could)  from  chiding  me :  — 

"  Mistress  Lorna,  this  is  not  the  ring  of  any  giant.  It  is 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  very  ancient  thumb-ring,  such 
as  once  in  my  father's  time  was  ploughed  up  out  of  the  ground 
in  our  farm,  and  sent  to  learned  doctors,  who  told  us  all  about 
it,  but  kept  the  ring  for  their  trouble.  I  will  accept  it,  my 
own  one  love ;  and  it  shall  go  to  my  grave  with  me."  And  so  it 
shall,  unless  there  be  villains  who  would  dare  to  rob  the  dead. 

Now  I  have  spoken  about  this  ring  (though  I  scarcely  meant 
to  do  so,  and  would  rather  keep  to  myself  things  so  very  holy) 
because  it  holds  an  important  part  in  the  history  of  my  Lorna. 
I  asked  her  where  the  glass  necklace  was,  from  which  the  ring 
was  fastened,  and  which  she  had  worn  in  her  childhood,  and 
she  answered  that  she  hardly  knew,  but  remembered  that  her 
grandfather  had  begged  her  to  give  it  up  to  him,  when  she 
was  ten  years  old  or  so,  and  had  promised  to  keep  it  for  her, 
until  she  could  take  care  of  it;  at  the  same  time  giving  her 
back  the  ring,  and  fastening  it  from  her  pretty  neck,  and  tell- 
ing her  to  be  proud  of  it.  And  so  she  always  had  been,  and 
now  from  her  sweet  breast  she  took  it,  and  it  became  John 
Ridd's  delight. 

All  this,  or  at  least  great  part  of  it,  I  told  my  mother  truly, 
according  to  my  promise;  and  she  was  greatly  pleased  with 
Lorna  for  having  been  so  good  to  me,  and  for  speaking  so  very 
sensibly;  and  then  she  looked  at  the  great  gold  ring,  but 
could  by  no  means  interpret  it.  Only  she  was  quite  certain, 
as  indeed  I  myself  was,  that  it  must  have  belonged  to  an  an- 
cient race  of  great  consideration,  and  high  rank,  in  their  time. 
Upon  which  I  was  for  taking  it  off,  lest  it  should  be  degraded 
by  a  common  farmer's  finger.     But  mother  said  "No,"  with 

VOL.  I.  —  16 


242  LOENA   DOONE. 

tears  in  her  eyes ;  "  if  the  common  farmer  had  won  the  great 
lady  of  the  ancient  race,  what  were  rings,  and  old-world 
trinkets,  when  compared  to  the  living  jewel?  "  Being  quite  of 
her  opinion  in  this,  and  loving  the  ring  (which  had  no  gem  in 
it)  as  the  token  of  my  priceless  gem,  I  resolved  to  wear  it  at 
any  cost,  except  when  I  should  be  ploughing,  or  doing  things 
likely  to  break  it ;  although  I  must  own  that  it  felt  very  queer 
(for  I  never  had  tlirottled  a  finger  before),  and  it  looked  very 
queer,  for  a  length  of  time,  upon  my  great  hard-working  hand. 
And  before  I  got  used  to  my  ring,  or  people  could  think  that 
it  belonged  to  me  (plain  and  ungarnished  though  it  was),  and 
before  I  went  to  see  Lorna  again,  having  failed  to  find  any 
necessity,  and  remembering  my  duty  to  mother,  we  all  had 
something  else  to  think  of,  not  so  pleasant,  and  even  more 
puzzling. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

JOHN    RETURNS    TO    BUSINESS. 

Now  November  was  upon  us,  and  we  had  kept  Allhallow- 
mass,  with  roasting  of  skewered  apples  (like  so  many  shut- 
tlecocks), and  after  that,  the  day  of  Fawkes,  as  became  good 
Protestants,  with  merry  bonfires  and  burned  batatas,  and 
plenty  of  good  feeding  in  honor  of  our  religion;  and  then 
while  we  were  at  wheat-sowing,  another  visitor  arrived. 

This  was  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  who  had  been  a  good 
friend  to  me  (as  described  before)  in  London,  and  had  earned 
my  mother's  gratitude,  so  far  as  ever  he  chose  to  have  it. 
And  he  seemed  inclined  to  have  it  all;  for  he  made  our  farm- 
house his  head-quarters,  and  kept  us  quite  at  his  beck  and  call, 
going  out  at  any  time  of  the  evening,  and  coming  back  at  any 
time  of  the  morning,  and  always  expecting  us  to  be  ready, 
whether  with  horse,  or  man,  or  maidens,  or  fire,  or  provi- 
sions. We  knew  that  he  was  employed  somehow  upon  the 
service  of  the  King,  and  had  at  different  stations  certain 
troopers  and  orderlies,  quite  at  his  disposal;  also  Ave  knew 
that  he  never  went  out,  nor  even  slept  in  his  bedroom,  with- 
out heavy  fire-arms  well  loaded,  and  a  sharp  sword  nigh  his 
hand;  and  that  he  held  a  great  commission,  under  royal 
signet,  requiring  all  good  subjects,  all  officers  of  whatever 
degree,  and  especially  justices  of  the  peace,  to  aid  him  to  the 


JOHN  EETUMNS   TO  BUSINESS.  243 

utmost,  with  persoiij  beast,  and  cliattel,  or  to  answer  it  at 
their  peril. 

iSTow  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  by  this  time  knowing  well 
what  women  are,  durst  not  open  to  any  of  them  the  nature  of 
his  instructions.  But,  after  awhile,  perceiving  that  I  could 
be  relied  upon,  and  that  it  was  a  great  discomfort  not  to  have 
me  with  him,  he  took  me  aside  in  a  lonely  place,  and  told  me 
nearly  every  thing;  having  bound  me  first  by  oath,  not  to 
impart  to  any  one,  without  his  own  permission,  until  all  was 
over. 

But  at  the  present  time  of  writing,  all  is  over  long  ago ;  ay 
and  forgotten  too,  I  ween,  except  by  those  who  suffered. 
Therefore  may  I  tell  the  whole  without  any  breach  of  confi- 
dence. Master  Stickles  was  going  forth  upon  his  usual  night 
journey,  when  he  met  me  coming  home,  and  I  said  something 
half  in  jest,  about  his  zeal  and  secrecy;  upon  which  he  looked 
all  around  the  yard,  and  led  me  to  an  open  space  in  the  clover 
field  adjoining. 

"John,"  he  said,  "you  have  some  right  to  know  the  meaning 
of  all  this,  being  trusted  as  you  Avere  by  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice. But  he  found  you  scarcely  supple  enough,  neither  gifted 
with  due  brains." 

"Thank  God  for  that  same,"  I  answered,  while  he  tapped 
his  head,  to  signify  his  own  much  larger  allowance.  Then  he 
made  me  bind  myself,  which  in  an  evil  hour  I  did,  to  retain 
his  secret;  and  after  that  he  went  on  solemnly,  and  with 
much  importance,  — 

"  There  be  some  people  fit  to  plot,  and  others  to  be  plotted 
against,  and  others  to  unravel  plots,  which  is  the  highest  gift 
of  all.  This  last  hath  fallen  to  my  share,  and  a  very  thank- 
less gift  it  is,  although  a  rare  and  choice  one.  Much  of  peril 
too  attends  it ;  daring  courage  and  great  coolness  are  as  need- 
ful for  the  work  as  ready  wit  and  spotless  honor.  Therefore 
His  Majesty's  advisers  have  chosen  me  for  this  high  task,  and 
they  could  not  have  chosen  a  better  man.  Although  you  have 
been  in  London,  Jack,  much  longer  than  you  wished  it,  you 
are  wholly  ignorant,  of  course,  in  matters  of  state,  and  the 
public  weal." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "no  doubt  but  I  am;  and  all  the  better  for 
me.  Although  I  heard  a  deal  of  them;  for  every  body  was 
talking,  and  ready  to  come  to  blows ;  if  only  it  could  be  done 
Avithout  danger.  But  one  said  this,  and  one  said  that;  and 
they  talked  so  much  about  Birminghams,  and  Tantivies,  and 
Whigs,  and  Tories,  and  Protestant  flails,  and  such  like,  that 


244  LOBNA  nooNE. 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  have  my  glass,  and  clink  my  spoon  for 
answer." 

"Eight,  John,  thou  art  right  as  usual.  Let  the  King  go 
his  own  gait.  He  hath  too  many  mistresses  to  be  ever  Eng- 
land's master.  Nobody  need  fear  him,  for  he  is  not  like  his 
father :  he  will  have  his  own  way,  'tis  true,  but  without  stop- 
ping other  folk  of  theirs :  and  well  he  knows  what  women  are, 
for  he  never  asks  them  questions.  Now,  heard  you  much  in 
London  town  about  the  Duke  of  Monmouth?" 

"Not  so  very  much,"  I  answered;  "not  half  so  much  as  in 
Devonshire :  only  that  he  was  a  hearty  man,  and  a  very  hand- 
some one,  and  now  was  banished  by  the  Tories;  and  most 
people  wished  he  was  coming  back,  instead  of  the  Duke  of 
York,  who  was  trying  boots  in  Scotland." 

"Things  are  changed  since  you  were  in  town.  The  Whigs 
are  getting  up  again,  through  the  folly  of  the  Tories  in  kill- 
ing poor  Lord  Russell;  and  now  this  Master  Sidney  (if  my 
Lord  condemns  him)  will  make  it  worse  again.  There  is 
much  disaffection  every  where,  and  it  must  grow  to  an  out- 
break. The  King  hath  many  troops  in  London,  and  meaneth 
to  bring  more  from  Tangier;  but  he  cannot  command  these 
country  places ;  and  the  trained  bands  cannot  help  him  much, 
even  if  they  would.     Now,  do  you  understand  me,  John?" 

"  Li  truth,  not  I.  I  see  not  what  Tangier  hath  to  do  with 
Exmoor;  nor  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  with  Jeremy  Stickles." 

"Thou  great  clod,  put  it  the  other  way.  Jeremy  Stickles 
may  have  much  to  do  about  the  Duke  of  Monmouth.  The 
Whigs  having  failed  of  Exclusion,  and  having  been  punished 
bitterly  for  the  blood  they  shed,  are  ripe  for  any  violence. 
And  the  turn  of  the  balance  is  now  to  them.  See -saw  is  the 
fashion  of  England  always;  and  the  Whigs  will  soon  be  the 
top-sawyers." 

"But,"  said  I,  still  more  confused,  "'The  King  is  the  top- 
sawyer,  '  according  to  our  proverb.  How  then  can  the  Whigs 
be?" 

"  Thou  art  a  hopeless  ass,  John.  Better  to  sew  with  a  chest- 
nut, than  to  teach  thee  the  constitution.  Let  it  be  so;  let 
it  be.  I  have  seen  a  boy  of  five  years  old  more  apt  at  poli- 
tics than  thou.  Nay,  look  not  offended,  lad.  It  is  my  fault 
for  being  over-deep  to  thee.  I  should  have  considered  thy 
intellect." 

"Nay,  Master  Jeremy,  make  no  apologies.  It  is  I  that 
should  excuse  myself;  but,  God  knows,  I  have  no  politics." 

"Stick  to  that,  my  lad,"  he  answered;  "so  shalt  thou  die 


JOHN  RETURNS   TO  BUSINESS.  245 

easier.  Xow,  in  ten  words  (without  parties,  or  trying  thy 
poor  brain  too  much),  I  am  here  to  watch  the  gathering  of  a 
secret  plot,  not  so  much  against  the  King  as  against  the  due 
succession." 

"Now  I  understand  at  last.  But,  Master  Stickles,  you 
might  have  said  all  that  an  hour  ago  almost." 

"It  would  have  been  better,  if  I  had,  to  thee,"  he  replied, 
with  much  compassion;  "thy  hat  is  nearly  off  thy  head,  with 
the  swelling  of  brain  I  have  given  thee.  Blows,  blows,  are 
thy  business.  Jack.  There  thou  art  in  thine  element.  And, 
haply,  this  business  will  bring  thee  plenty,  even  for  thy  great 
head  to  take.  Now  hearken  to  one  who  wishes  thee  well,  and 
plainly  sees  the  ^nd  of  it,  —  stick  thou  to  the  winning  side, 
and  have  naught  to  do  with  the  other  one." 

"  That, "  said  I,  in  great  haste  and  hurry,  "  is  the  very  thing 
I  want  to  do,  if  I  only  knew  which  was  the  winning  side,  for 
the  sake  of  Lorna  —  that  is  to  say,  for  the  sake  of  my  dear 
mother  and  sisters,  and  the  farm." 

"Ha!"  cried  Jeremy  Stickles,  laughing  at  the  redness  of 
my  face  —  "  Lorna,  saidst  thou ;  now  what  Lorna  ?  Is  it  the 
name  of  a  maiden,  or  a  light-o'-love?  " 

"Keep  to  your  own  business,"  I  answered,  very  proudly; 
"  spy  as  much  as  e'er  thou  wilt,  and  use  our  house  for  doing 
it,  without  asking  leave  or  telling;  but  if  I  ever  find  thee  spy- 
ing into  my  affairs,  all  the  King's  lifeguards  in  London,  and 
the  dragoons  thou  bringest  hither,  shall  not  save  thee  from 
my  hand  —  or  one  finger  is  enough  for  thee." 

Being  carried  beyond  myself  by  his  insolence  about  Lorna, 
I  looked  at  Master  Stickles  so,  and  spake  in  such  a  voice,  that 
all  his  daring  courage  and  his  spotless  honor  quailed  within 
him,  and  he  shrank  —  as  if  I  would  strike  so  small  a  man. 

Then  I  left  him,  and  went  to  work  at  the  sacks  upon  the 
corn-floor,  to  take  my  evil  spirit  from  me,  before  I  should  see 
mother.  For  (to  tell  the  truth)  now  my  strength  was  full, 
and  troubles  were  gathering  round  me,  and  people  took 
advantage  so  much  of  my  easy  temper,  sometimes,  when  I 
was  over-tried,  a  sudden  heat  ran  over  me,  and  a  glowing  of 
all  my  muscles,  and  a  tingling  for  a  mighty  throw,  such  as 
m}^  utmost  self-command,  and  fear  of  hurting  any  one,  could 
but  ill  refrain.  Afterwards,  I  was  alwaj^s  very  sadly  ashamed 
of  myself,  knowing  how  poor  a  thing  bodily  strength  is,  as 
compared  with  power  of  mind,  and  that  it  is  a  coward's  part 
to  misuse  it  upon  weaker  folk.  For  the  present  there  was 
a  little  breach  between  Master  Stickles  and  me,  for  which  I 


246  LORNA  DOONK 

blamed  myself  very  sorely.  But  though,  in  full  memory  of 
his  kindness  and  faithfulness  in  London,  I  asked  his  pardon 
many  times  for  my  foolish  anger  with  him,  and  offered  to 
undergo  any  penalty  he  would  lay  upon  me,  he  only  said  it 
was  no  matter,  there  was  nothing  to  forgive.  When  people 
say  that,  the  truth  often  is,  that  they  can  forgive  nothing. 

So  for  the  present,  a  breach  Avas  made  between  Master  Jer- 
emy and  myself,  which  to  me  seemed  no  great  loss ;  inasmuch 
as  it  relieved  me  from  any  privity  to  his  dealings,  for  which 
I  had  small  liking.  All  I  feared  was,  lest  1  might,  in  any 
way,  be  ungrateful  to  him;  but  when  he  would  have  no  more 
of  me,  what  could  I  do  to  help  it?  However,  in  a  few  days' 
time  I  was  of  good  service  to  him,  as  you  shall  see  in  its 
proper  place. 

But  now  my  own  affairs  were  thrown  into  such  disorder, 
that  I  could  think  of  nothing  else,  and  had  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  hiding  my  uneasiness.  For  suddenly,  without  any 
warning,  or  a  word  of  message,  all  my  Lorna's  signals  ceased, 
which  I  had  been  wont  to  watch  for  daily,  and  as  it  were  to 
feed  upon  them,  with  a  glowing  heart.  The  first  time  I  stood 
on  the  wooded  crest,  and  found  no  change  from  yesterday,  I 
could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  or  thought  at  least  that  it  must 
be  some  great  mistake  on  the  part  of  my  love.  However, 
even  that  oppressed  me  with  a  heavy  heart,  which  grew 
heavier,  as  I  found  from  day  to  day  no  token. 

Three  times  I  went,  and  waited  long  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  where  now  the  stream  was  brown  and  angry  with  the 
rains  of  autumn,  and  the  weeping  trees  hung  leafless.  But 
though  I  waited  at  every  hour  of  day  and  far  into  the  night, 
no  light  footstep  came  to  meet  me,  no  sweet  voice  was  in  the 
air;  all  was  lonely,  drear,  and  drenched  with  sodden  desola- 
tion. It  seemed  as  if  my  love  was  dead,  and  the  winds  were 
at  her  funeral. 

Once  I  sought  far  up  the  valley,  where  I  had  never  been  be- 
fore, even  beyond  the  copse,  Avhere  Lorna  had  found  and  lost 
her  brave  young  cousin.  Following  up  the  river  channel,  in 
the  shelter  of  the  evening  fog,  I  gained  a  corner  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  last  out-lying  cot.  This  was  a  glooomy, 
low,  square  house,  without  any  light  in  the  windows,  roughly 
built  of  wood  and  stone,  as  I  saw  when  I  drew  nearer.  For 
knowing  it  to  be  Carver's  dwelling  (or  at  least  suspecting  so, 
from  some  words  of  Lorna's),  I  was  led  by  curiosity,  and 
perhaps  by  jealousy,  to  have  a  closer  look  at  it.  Therefore, 
I  crept  up  the  stream,  losing  half  my  sense  of  fear,  by  reason 


JOHN   RETURNS    TO  BUSINESS.  247 

of  anxiety.  And  in  truth  there  was  not  much  to  fear,  the  sky 
being  now  too  dark  for  even  a  shooter  of  wild  fowl  to  make 
good  aim.  And  nothing  else  but  guns  could  hurt  me;  as  in 
the  pride  of  my  strength  I  thought,  and  in  my  skill  of  single- 
stick. 

Nevertheless,  I  went  warily,  being  now  almost  among  this 
nest  of  cockatrices.  The  back  of  Carver's  house  abutted  on 
the  waves  of  the  rushing  stream;  and  seeing  a  loop-hole, 
vacant  for  muskets,  I  looked  in,  but  all  was  quiet.  So  far  as 
I  could  judge  by  listening,  there  was  no  one  now  inside,  and 
my  heart  for  a  moment  leaped  with  joy,  for  I  had  feared  to 
find  Lorna  there.  Then  I  took  a  careful  survey  of  the  dwell- 
ing, and  its  windows,  and  its  door,  and  aspect,  as  if  I  had  been 
a  robber  meaning  to  make  privy  entrance.  It  was  well  for  me 
that  I  did  this,  as  you  will  find  hereafter. 

Having  impressed  upon  my  mind  (a  slow  but,  perhaps, 
retentive  mind)  all  the  bearings  of  the  place,  and  all  its  oppor- 
tunities, and  even  the  curve  of  the  stream  along  it,  and  the 
bushes  near  the  door,  I  was  much  inclined  to  go  further  up, 
and  understand  all  the  village.  But  a  bar  of  red  light  across 
the  river,  some  forty  yards  on  above  me,  and  crossing  from 
the  opposite  side  like  a  chain,  prevented  me.  In  that  second 
house  there  was  a  gathering  of  loud  and  merry  outlaws,  mak- 
ing as  much  noise  as  if  they  had  the  law  upon  their  side. 
Some  indeed,  as  I  q,pproached,  were  laying  down  both  right 
and  wrong,  as  purely,  and  with  as  high  a  sense,  as  if  they 
knew  the  difference.  Cold  and  troubled  as  I  was,  I  could 
hardly  keep    from  laughing. 

Before  I  betook  myself  home  that  night,  and  eased  dear 
mother's  heart  so  much,  and  made  her  sad  face  spread  with 
smiles,  I  had  resolved  to  penetrate  Glen  Doone  from  the  upper 
end,  and  learn  all  about  my  Lorna.  Not  but  what  I  might 
have  entered  from  my  unsuspected  channel,  as  so  often  I  had 
done;  but  that  I  saw  fearful  need  for  knowing  something  more 
than  that.  Here  was  every  sort  of  trouble  gathering  upon 
me;  here  was  Jeremy  Stickles  stealing  upon  every  one  in  the 
dark;  here  was  Uncle  Beuben  plotting,  Satan  only  could  tell 
what;  here  was  a  white  night-capped  man  coming  bodily  from 
the  grave;  here  was  my  own  sister  Annie  committed  to  a 
high  way -man,  and  mother  in  distraction ;  most  of  all,  —  here, 
there,  and  where,  —  was  my  Lorna,  stolen,  dungeoned,  per- 
haps outraged.  It  was  no  time  for  sliilly  slially,  for  the  bal- 
ance of  this  and  that,  or  for  a  man,  witli  blood  and  muscle, 
to  pat  his  nose  and  ponder.     If  I  leit  my  Lorna  so;   if  I  let 


248  LORNA   DOONE. 

those  black-soul'd  villains  work  their  pleasure  on  my  love;  if 
the  heart  that  clave  to  mine  could  find  no  vigor  in  it  —  then 
let  maidens  cease  from  men,  and  rest  their  faith  in  tabby-cats. 
Eudely  rolling  these  ideas  in  my  heavy  head  and  brain,  I 
resolved  to  let  the  morrow  put  them  into  form  and  order,  but 
not  contradict  them.  And  then,  as  my  constitution  willed 
(being  like  that  of  England),  I  slept;  and  there  was  no  stop- 
ping me. 


CHAPTEE  XXXVII. 

A    VERY    DESPERATE    VENTURE. 

That  the  enterprise  now  resolved  upon  was  far  more  dan- 
gerous than  any  hitherto  attempted  by  me,  needs  no  further 
proof  than  this :  —  I  went  and  made  my  will  at  Porlock,  with 
a  middling  honest  lawyer  there;  not  that  I  had  much  to  leave, 
but  that  none  could  say  how  far  the  farm,  and  all  the  farm- 
ing stock,  might  depend  on  my  disposition.  It  makes  me 
smile  when  I  remember  how  particular  I  was,  and  how  for 
the  life  of  me  I  was  puzzled  to  bequeath  most  part  of  my 
clothes,  and  hats,  and  things  altogether  my  own,  to  Lorna, 
without  the  shrewd  old  lawyer  knowing  who  she  was,  and 
where  she  lived.  At  last,  indeed,  I  flattered  myself  that  I 
had  baffled  old  Tape's  curiosity;  but  his  wrinkled  smile,  and 
his  speech  at  parting,  made  me  again  uneasy. 

"A  very  excellent  will,  young  sir.  An  admirably  just  and 
virtuous  will;  all  your  effects  to  your  nearest  of  kin;  filial  and 
fraternal  duty  thoroughly  exemplified;  nothing  diverted  to 
alien  channels,  except  a  small  token  of  esteem  and  reverence 
to  an  elderly  lady,  I  presume :  and  which  may  or  may  not  be 
valid,  or  invalid,  on  the  ground  of  uncertainty,  or  the  ab- 
sence of  any  legal  status  on  the  part  of  the  legatee.  Ha,  ha! 
Yes,  yes!  Few  young  men  are  so  free  from  undesirable 
entanglements.  Two  guineas  is  my  charge,  sir:  and  a  rare 
good  will  for  the  money.  Very  prudent  of  you,  sir.  Does 
you  credit  in  everyway.  Well,  well:  we  all  must  die;  and 
often  the  young,  before  the  old." 

Not  only  did  I  think  two  guineas  a  great  deal  too  much 
money  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  employment,  but  also  I  dis- 
liked particularly  the  words  with  which  he  concluded;  they 
sounded,  trom  his  grating  voice,  like  the  evil  omen  of  a  croak- 


A    VERY  DESPERATE    VESTURE.  240 

ing  raven.  Nevertheless  I  still  abode  in  my  fixed  resolve  to 
go,  and  find  out,  if  I  died  for  it,  what  was  become  of  Lorna. 
And  herein  I  lay  no  claim  to  courage;  the  matter  being  simply 
a  choice  between  two  evils,  of  which  by  far  the  greater  one 
was,  of  course,  to  lose  my  darling. 

The  journey  Avas  a  great  deal  longer  to  fetch  around  the 
Southern  hills,  and  enter  by  the  Doone-gate,  than  to  cross  the 
lower  land,  and  steal  in  by  the  water-slide.  However,  I  durst 
not  take  a  horse  (for  fear  of  the  Doones,  who  might  be  abroad 
upon  their  usual  business),  but  started  betimes  in  the  even- 
ing, so  as  not  to  hurry,  or  waste  any  strength  upon  the  way. 
And  thus  I  came  to  the  robbers'  highway,  walking  circum- 
spectly, scanning  the  sky-line  of  every  hill,  and  searching  the 
folds  of  every  valley,  for  any  moving  figure. 

Although  it  was  now  well  on  towards  dark,  and  the  sun  was 
down  an  hour  or  so,  I  could  see  the  robbers'  road  before  me, 
in  a  trough  of  the  winding  hills,  where  the  brook  ploughed 
down  from  the  higher  barrows,  and  the  coving  banks  were 
roofed  with  furze.  At  present,  there  was  no  one  passing, 
neither  post  nor  sentinel,  so  far  as  I  could  descry;  but  I 
thought  it  safer  to  wait  a  little,  as  twilight  melted  into  night; 
and  then  I  crept  down  a  seam  of  the  highland,  and  stood  upon 
the  Doone-track. 

As  the  road  approached  the  entrance,  it  became  more 
straight  and  strong,  like  a  channel  cut  from  rock,  with  the 
water  brawling  darkly  along  the  naked  side  of  it.  Not  a  tree 
or  bush  was  left,  to  shelter  a  man  from  bullets :  all  was  stern, 
and  stiff,  and  rugged,  as  I  could  not  help  perceiving,  even 
through  the  darkness;  and  a  smell  as  of  churchyard  mould,  a 
sense  of  being  boxed  in  and  cooped,  made  me  long  to  be  out 
again . 

And  here  I  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  particularly  unlucky ;  for 
as  I  drew  near  the  very  entrance,  lightly  of  foot,  and  warily, 
the  moon  (which  had  often  been  my  friend)  like  an  enemy 
broke  upon  me,  topping  the  eastward  ridge  of  rock,  and  fill- 
ing all  the  open  spaces  with  the  play  of  wavering  light.  I 
shrank  back  into  the  shadowy  quarter,  on  the  right  side  of  the 
road;  and  gloomily  employed  myself  to  watch  the  triple  en- 
trance, on  which  the  moonlight  fell  askew. 

All  across  and  before  the  three  rude  and  beetling  archways, 
hung  a  felled  oak  overhead,  black,  and  thick,  and  threatening. 
This,  as  I  heard  before,  could  be  let  fall  in  a  moment,  so  as  to 
crush  a  score  of  men,  and  bar  the  approach  of  horses.  Behind 
this  tree,  the  rocky  mouth  was  spanned,  as  by  a  gallery,  with 


250  LORNA    DOOXE. 

bruslnvood  and  piled  timber,  all  upon  a  ledge  of  stone,  wliere 
thirty  men  might  lurk  unseen,  and  lire  at  any  invader.  From 
that  rampart  it  would  be  impossible  to  dislodge  them,  because 
the  rock  fell  sheer  below  them  twenty  feet,  or  it  may  be  more ; 
while  overhead  it  towered  three  hundred,  and  so  jutted  over 
that  nothing  could  be  cast  upon  them ;  even  if  a  man  could 
climb  the  height.  And  the  access  to  this  portcullis  place  — 
if  I  may  so  call  it,  being  no  portcullis  there  —  was  through 
certain  rocky  chambers  known  to  the  tenants  onl3\ 

But  the  cleverest  of  their  devices,  and  the  most  puzzling  to 
an  enemy,  was  that,  instead  of  one  mouth  only,  there  were 
three  to  choose  from,  with  nothing  to  betoken  which  was  the 
proper  access ;  all  being  pretty  much  alike,  and  all  unf enced 
and  yawning.  And  the  common  rumor  was  that  in  times  of 
any  danger,  when  any  force  was  known  to  be  on  muster  in 
their  neighborhood,  they  changed  their  entrance  every  day, 
and  diverted  the  other  two,  by  means  of  sliding  doors  to  the 
chasms  and  dark  abysses. 

Now  I  could  see  those  three  rough  arches,  jagged,  black,  and 
terrible;  and  I  knew  that  only  one  of  them  could  lead  me  to 
the  valley ;  neither  gave  the  river  now  any  further  guidance ; 
but  dived  underground  with  a  sullen  roar,  where  it  met  the 
cross-bar  of  the  mountain.  Having  no  means  at  all  of  judg- 
ing which  was  the  right  way  of  the  three,  and  knowing  that 
the  other  two  would  lead  to  almost  certain  death,  in  the  rug- 
gedness  and  darkness,  —  for  how  could  a  man,  among  preci- 
pices and  bottomless  depths  of  water,  without  a  ray  of  light, 
have  any  chance  to  save  his  life?  —  I  do  declare  that  I  was 
half  inclined  to  go  away,  and  have  done  with  it. 

However,  I  knew  one  thing  for  certain,  to  wit,  that  the 
longer  I  stayed  debating,  the  more  would  the  enterprise  pall 
upon  me,  and  the  less  my  relish  be.  And  it  struck  me  that, 
in  times  of  peace,  the  middle  way  was  the  likeliest;  and  the 
others  diverging  right  and  left  in  their  further  parts  might  be 
made  to  slide  into  it  (not  far  from  the  entrance),  at  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  warders.  Also  I  took  it  for  good  omen  that  I 
remembered  (as  rarely  happened)  a  very  fine  line  in  the  Latin 
grammar,  whose  emphasis  and  meaning  is  "middle  road  is 
safest." 

Therefore,  without  more  hesitation,  I  plunged  into  the 
middle  way,  holding  a  long  ash  staff  before  me,  shodden  at 
the  end  with  iron.  Presently  I  was  in  black  darkness,  grop- 
ing along  the  wall,  and  feeling  a  deal  more  fear  than  I  Avished 
to  feel;  especially  when  upon  looking  back  I  could  no  longer 


J    VERY  DESPERATE    VENTURE.  251 

see  the  light,  which  I  had  forsaken.  Then  I  stumbled  over 
something  hard,  and  sharp,  and  very  cold,  moreover  so  griev- 
ous to  my  legs,  that  it  needed  my  very  best  doctrine  and  humor 
to  forbear  from  swearing,  in  the  manner  they  use  in  London. 
But  when  I  arose,  and  felt  it,  and  knew  it  to  be  a  culverin, 
I  was  somewhat  reassured  thereby,  inasmuch  as  it  was  not 
likely  that  tliey  would  plant  this  engine,  except  in  the  real 
and  true  entrance. 

Therefore  I  went  on  again,  more  painfully  and  wearily,  and 
presently  found  it  to  be  good  that  I  had  received  that  knock, 
and  borne  it  with  such  patience;  for  otherwise  I  might  have 
blundered  full  upon  the  sentries,  and  been  shot  without  more 
ado.  As  it  was,  I  had  barely  time  to  draw  back,  as  I  turned 
a  corner  upon  them;  and  if  their  lantiiorn  had  been  in  its 
place,  they  could  scarce  have  failed  to  descry  me,  unless 
indeed  I  had  seen  the  gleam  before  I  turned  the  corner. 

There  seemed  to  be  only  two  of  them,  of  size  indeed  and 
stature  as  all  the  Doones  must  be,  but  I  need  not  have  feared 
to  encounter  them  both,  had  they  been  unarmed,  as  I  was. 
It  was  plain,  however,  that  each  had  a  long  and  heavy  carbine, 
not  in  his  hands  (as  it  should  have  been),  but  standing  close 
beside  him.  Therefore  it  behoved  me  now  to  be  exceeding 
careful;  and  even  that  might  scarce  avail,  without  luck  in 
proportion.  So  I  kept  well  back  at  the  corner,  and  laid  one 
cheek  to  the  rock  face,  and  kept  my  outer  eye  round  the  jut, 
in  the  wariest  mode  I  could  compass,  watching  my  opportu- 
nity: and  this  is  what  I  saw. 

The  two  villains  looked  very  happy  —  which  villains  have 
no  right  to  be,  but  often  are,  meseemeth  —  they  were  sitting 
in  a  niche  of  rock,  with  the  lanthorn  in  the  corner,  quaffing 
something  from  glass  measures,  and  playing  at  push-pin,  or 
shepherd's  chess,  or  basset;  or  some  trivial  game  of  that  sort. 
Each  was  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe,  quite  of  new  London  shape 
I  could  see,  for  the  shadow  was  thrown  out  clearly ;  and  each 
Avould  laugh  from  time  to  time,  as  he  fancied  he  got  the  better 
of  it.  One  was  sitting  with  his  knees  up,  and  left  hand  on 
his  thigh;  and  this  one  had  his  back  to  me,  and  seemed  to  be 
the  stouter.  The  other  leaned  more  against  the  rock,  half 
sitting  and  half  astraddle,  and  wearing  leathern  overalls,  as 
if  newly  come  from  riding.  I  could  see  his  face  quite  clearly 
by  the  light  of  the  open  lanthorn,  and  a  handsomer  or  a  bolder 
face  I  had  seldom,  if  ever,  set  eyes  upon;  insomuch  that  it 
made  me  very  unhappy  to  think  of  his  being  so  near  my  Lorna. 

"How  loni  am  T  to  stav  crouchino-  here?  "  T  asked  of  my- 


252  LORN  A  DOONE. 

self  at  lastj  being  tired  of  hearing  them  cry,  "score  one," 

"score   two,"  "No,  by ,, Charlie,"  "By 1  say  it   is, 

Phelps."  And  yet  my  only  chance  of  slipping  by  them  un- 
perceived  was  to  wait  till  they  quarrelled  more,  and  came  to 
blows  about  it.  Presently,  as  I  made  up  my  mind  to  steal 
along  towards  them  (for  the  cavern  was  pretty  wide,  just 
there),  Charlie,  or  Charleworth  Doone,  the  younger  and  taller 
man,  reached  forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  money,  which  he 
swore  he  had  won  that  time.  Upon  this,  the  other  jerked  his 
arm,  vowing  that  he  had  no  right  to  it;  whereupon  Charlie 
flung  at  his  face  the  contents  of  the  glass  he  was  sipping,  but 
missed  him  and  hit  the  candle,  which  spluttered  with  a  flare 
of  blue  flame  (from  the  strength  perhaps  of  the  spirit)  and 
then  went  out  completely.  At  this,  one  swore,  and  the  other 
laughed ;  and  before  they  had  settled  what  to  do,  I  was  past 
them  and  round  the  corner. 

And  then,  like  a  giddy  fool  as  I  was,  I  needs  must  give 
them  a  startler  —  the  whoop  of  an  owl,  done  so  exactly,  as 
John  Fry  had  taught  me,  and  echoed  by  the  roof  so  fearfully, 
that  one  of  them  dropped  the  tinder  box,  and  the  other  caught 
up  his  gun  and  cocked  it,  at  least  as  I  judged  by  the  sounds 
they  made.  And  then,  too  late,  I  knew  my  madness,  for  if 
either  of  them  had  fired,  no  doubt  but  what  all  the  village 
would  have  risen,  and  rushed  upon  me.  However,  as  the  luck 
of  the  matter  went,  it  proved  for  my  advantage ;  for  I  heard 
one  say  to  the  other,  — 

"Curse  it,  Charlie,  what  was  that?  It  scared  me  so,  I  have 
dropped  my  box ;  my  flint  is  gone,  and  every  thing.  Will  the 
brimstone  catch  from  your  pipe,  my  lad?" 

"  My  pipe  is  out,  Phelps,  ever  so  long.  Damn  it,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  an  owl,  man.  Give  me  the  lanthorn,  and  stay  here. 
I'm  not  half  done  with  you  yet,  my  friend." 

"Well  said,  my  boy,  well  said!  Go  straight  to  Carver's, 
mind  you.  The  other  sleepy-heads  be  snoring,  as  there  is 
nothing  up  to-night.  jN'o  dallying  now  under  Captain's  win- 
dow. Queen  will  have  nought  to  say  to  you;  and  Carver  will 
punch  your  head  into  a  new  wick  for  your  lanthorn." 

"Will  he  though?  Two  can  play  at  that."  And  so  after 
some  rude  jests,  and  laughter,  and  a  few  more  oaths,  I  heard 
Charlie  (or  at  any  rate  somebody)  coming  toward  me,  with  a 
loose  and  not  too  sober  footfall.  As  he  reeled  a  little  in  his 
gait,  and  I  would  not  move  from  his  way  one  inch,  after  his 
talk  of  Lorna,  but  only  longed  to  grasp  him  (if  common  sense 
permitted  it),  his  braided  coat  came  against  my  thumb,  and 


A    VERY  DESPERATE    VENTURE.  253 

Ids  leatliern  gaiters  brushed  my  knee.  If  he  had  turned  or 
noticed  it,  he  woukl  have  been  a  dead  man  in  a  moment;  but 
his  drunkenness  saved  him. 

So  I  let  him  reel  on  unharmed;  and  thereupon  it  occurred  to 
rue  that  I  could  have  no  better  guide,  passing  as  he  would 
exactly  where  I  wished  to  be;  that  is  to  say  under  Lorna's 
window.  Therefore  I  followed  him,  without  any  especial 
caution;  and  soon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  form  against 
the  moonlit  sky.  Down  a  steep  and  winding  path,  with  a 
handrail  at  the  corners  (such  as  they  have  at  Ilfracombe), 
Master  Charlie  tripped  along  —  and  indeed  there  was  much 
tripping,  and  he  must  have  been  an  active  fellow  to  recover  as 
he  did  —  and  after  him  walked  I,  much  hoping  (for  his  own 
poor  sake)  that  he  might  not  turn,  and  espy  me. 

But  Bacchus  (of  whom  I  read  at  school,  with  great  wonder 
about  his  meaning  —  and  the  same  I  may  say  of  Venus)  that 
great  deity  preserved  Charlie,  his  pious  worshipper,  from 
regarding  consequences.  So  he  led  me  very  kindly  to  the  top 
of  the  meadow  land,  where  the  stream  from  underground 
broke  forth,  seething  quietly  with  a  little  hiss  of  bubbles. 
Hence  I  had  fair  view  and  outline  of  the  robbers'  township, 
spread  Avith  bushes  here  and  there,  but  not  heavily  overshad- 
owed. The  moon,  approaching  now  the  full,  brought  the 
forms  in  manner  forth,  clothing  each  with  character,  as  the 
moon  (more  than  the  sun)  does,  to  an  eye  accustomed. 

I  knew  that  the  Captain's  hofise  was  first,  both  from  what 
Lorna  had  said  of  it,  and  from  my  mother's  description,  and 
now  again  from  seeing  Charlie  halt  there  for  a  certain  time, 
and  whistle  on  his  fingers,  and  hurry  on,  fearing  consequences. 
The  tune  that  he  whistled  was  strange  to  me,  and  lingered  in 
my  ears,  as  having  something  very  new  and  striking,  and  fan- 
tastic in  it.  And  I  repeated  it  softly  to  myself,  while  I  marked 
the  position  of  the  houses  and  the  beauty  of  the  village.  For 
the  stream,  in  lieu  of  any  street,  passing  between  the  houses, 
and  affording  perpetual  change,  and  twinkling,  and  reflections, 
moreover  by  its  sleepy  murmur  soothing  all  the  dwellers  there, 
this  and  the  snugness  of  the  position,  walled  with  rock  and 
spread  with  herbage,  made  it  look,  in  the  quiet  moonlight, 
like  a  little  paradise.  And  to  think  of  all  the  inmates  there, 
sleeping  with  good  consciences,  having  plied  their  useful  trade 
of  making  others  work  for  them,  enjoying  life  without  much 
labor,  yet  with  great  renown! 

"Mast'U'  Charlie  went  down  the  village,  and  I  followed  him 
c  irefully,  keeping  as  much  as  possible  in  the  shadowy  places, 


254  LOBXA    DOONE. 

and  watching  the  windows  of  every  house,  lest  any  light  should 
be  burning.  As  I  passed  Sir  Ensor's  house,  my  heart  leaped 
up,  for  I  spied  a  window,  higher  than  the  rest  above  the 
ground,  and  with  a  faint  light  moving.  This  could  hardly 
fail  to  be  the  room  wherein  my  darling  lay;  for  here  that 
impudent  young  fellow  had  gazed  while  he  was  whistling. 
And  here  my  courage  grew  tenfold,  and  my  spirit  feared  no 
evil  —  for  lo,  if  Lorna  had  been  surrendered  to  that  scoundrel, 
Carver,  she  would  not  have  been  at  her  grandfather's  house, 
but  in  Carver's  accursed  dwelling. 

Warm  with  this  idea,  I  hurried  after  Charleworth  Doone, 
being  resolved  not  to  harm  him  now,  unless  my  own  life 
required  it.  And  while  I  watched  from  behind  a  tree,  the 
door  of  the  furthest  house  was  opened ;  and  sure  enough  it  was 
Carver's  self,  who  stood  bareheaded,  and  half  undressed,  in 
the  doorway.  I  could  see  his  great  black  chest,  and  arms,  by 
the  light  of  the  lamp  he  bore. 

"  Who  Avants  me,  this  time  of  night?  "  he  grumbled  in  a  deep 
gruff  voice;  "any  young  scamp  prowling  after  the  maids 
shall  have  sore  bones  for  his  trouble." 

"All  the  fair  maids  are  for  thee,  are  they.  Master  Carver?" 
Charlie  answered  laughing;  "we  young  scamps  must  be  well- 
content  with  coarser  stuff  than  thou  wouldst  have." 

"Would  have?  Ay,  and  will  have,"  the  great  beast  mut- 
tered angrily.  "I  bide  my  time;  but  not  very  long.  Only 
one  word  for  thy  good,  Charlie.  I  will  fling  thee  senseless 
into  the  river,  if  ever  I  catch  thy  girl-face  there  again." 

"  Mayliap,  Master  Carver,  it  is  more  than  thou  couldst  do. 
But  I  will  not  keep  thee ;  thou  art  not  pleasant  company  to- 
night. All  I  want  is  a  light  for  my  lanthorn,  and  a  glass  of 
schnapps,  if  thou  hast  it." 

"What  is  become  of  thy  light,  then?  Good  for  thee  I  am 
not  on  duty." 

"A  great  owl  flew  between  me  and  Phelps,  as  we  watched 
beside  the  culverin.  and  so  scared  was  he  at  our  fierce  bright 
eyes,  that  he  fell,  and  knocked  the  light  out." 

"  Likely  tale,  or  likely  lie,  Charles !  We  will  have  the  truth 
to-morrow.  Here  take  thy  light,  and  be  gone  with  thee.  All 
virtuous  men  are  in  bed  now." 

"Then  so  will  I  be,  and  why  art  thou  not?  Ha,  have  I 
earned  my  schnapps  now?" 

"  If  thou  hast,  thou  hast  paid  a  bad  debt :  there  is  too  much 
in  thee  already.     Be  off!  my  patience  is  done  with." 

Then  he  slammed  the  door  in  the  young  man's  face,  having 


A    VEBY  DESPERATE   VENTURE.  255 

kindled  his  lantliorn  by  this  time :  and  Charlie  went  up  to  the 
watch-place  again,  muttering  as  he  passed  me,  " ]>ad  look-out 
for  all  of  us,  when  that  surly  old  beast  is  Captain.  Xo  gentle 
blood  in  him,  no  hospitality,  not  even  pleasant  language,  nor 
a  good  new  oath  in  his  frowsy  pate !  I've  a  mind  to  cut  the 
whole  of  it;  and  but  for  the  girls  I  would  so." 

My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  as  they  say,  when  I  stood  in 
the  shade  by  Lorna's  window,  and  whispered  her  name  gently. 
The  house  was  of  one  story  only,  as  the  others  were,  with 
pine-ends  standing  forth  the  stone,  and  only  two  rough  win- 
dows upon  that  western  side  of  it,  and  perhaps  both  of  them 
were  Lorna's.  The  Doones  had  been  their  own  builders,  for 
no  one  should  know  their  ins  and  outs;  and  of  course  their 
work  was  clumsy.  As  for  their  windows,  they  stole  them 
mostly  from  the  houses  round  about.  But  though  the  window 
was  not  very  close,  I  might  have  whispered  long  enough, 
before  she  would  have  answered  me ;  frightened  as  she  was, 
no  doubt,  by  many  a  rude  overture.  And  I  durst  not  speak 
aloud,  because  I  saw  another  watchman  posted  on  the  western 
cliff,  and  commanding  all  the  valley.  And  now  this  man 
(having  no  companion  for  drinking  or  for  gambling)  espied  me 
against  the  wall  of  the  house,  and  advanced  to  the  brink,  and 
challenged  me. 

"Who  are  you  there?  Answer!  One,  two,  three;  and  I  fire 
at  thee." 

The  nozzle  of  his  gun  was  pointed  full  upon  me,  as  I  could 
see,  with  the  moonlight  striking  on  the  barrel;  he  was  not 
more  than  fifty  yards  off,  and  now  he  began  to  reckon.  Being 
almost  desperate  about  it,  I  began  to  whistle,  wondering  how 
far  I  should  get  before  I  lost  mj^  windpipe :  and  as  luck  would 
have  it,  my  lips  fell  into  that  strange  tune  I  had  practised 
last;  the  one  I  had  heard  from  Charlie.  My  mouth  would 
scarcely  frame  the  notes,  being  parched  with  terror;  but  to 
my  surprise,  the  man  fell  back,  dropped  his  gun,  and  saluted. 
Oh  sweetest  of  all  sweet  melodies ! 

That  tune  was  Carver  Doone's  passport  (as  I  heard  long 
afterwards),  which  Charleworth  Doone  had  imitated,  for  decoy 
of  Lorna.  The  sentinel  took  me  for  that  vile  Carver;  who 
was  like  enough  to  be  prowling  there,  for  private  talk  with 
Lorna;  but  not  very  likely  to  shout  forth  his  name,  if  it  might 
be  avoided.  The  watchman,  perceiving  the  danger  perhaps 
of  intruding  on  Carver's  privacy,  not  only  retired  along  the 
cliff,  but  withdrew  himself  to  good  distance. 

Meanwhile  he  had  done  me  th(^  kindest  service;  for  Lorna 


256  LORNA   BOONE. 

came  to  the  window  at  once,  to  see  what  the  cause  of  the 
shout  was,  and  drew  back  the  curtain  timidly.  Tlien  she 
opened  the  rough  lattice;  and  then  she  watched  the  cliff  and 
trees;  and  then  she  sighed  very  sadly. 

"  Oh  Lorna,  don't  you  know  me?  "  I  whispered  from  the  side, 
being  afraid  of  startling  her  by  appearing  over  suddenly. 

Quick  though  she  always  was  of  thought,  she  knew  me  not 
from  my  whisper,  and  was  shutting  the  window  hastily,  when 
I  caught  it  back,  and  showed  myself. 

"John!"  she  cried,  yet  with  sense  enough  not  to  speak 
aloud:  "oh,  you  must  be  mad,  John." 

"As  mad  as  a  March  hare,"  said  I,  "  without  any  news  of  my 
darling.     You  knew  I  would  come:  of  course  you  did." 

"  Well,  I  thought,  perhaps you  know :  now,  John,  you 

need  not  eat  my  hand.  Do  you  see  they  have  put  iron  bars 
across?" 

"To  be  sure.  Do  you  think  I  should  be  contented,  even 
with  this  lovely  hand,  but  for  these  vile  iron  bars?  I  will 
have  them  out  before  I  go.  Xow,  darling,  for  one  moment  — 
just  the  other  hand,  for  a  change,  you  know." 

So  I  got  the  other,  but  was  not  honest;  for  I  kept  them 
both,  and  felt  their  delicate  beauty  trembling,  as  I  laid  them 
to  my  heart. 

"  Oh,  John,  you  will  make  me  cry  directly  "  —  she  had  been 
crying  long  ago  —  "if  you  go  on  in  that  way.  You  know  we 
can  never  have  one  another;  every  one  is  against  it.  Why 
should  T  make  you  miserable?  Try  not  to  think  of  me  any 
more." 

"And  will  you  try  the  same  of  me,  Lorna?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  John ;  if  you  agree  to  it.  At  least  I  will  try  to 
try  it." 

"Then  you  won't  try  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  I  cried  with 
great  enthusiasm,  for  her  tone  was  so  nice  and  melancholy: 
"the  only  thing  we  will  try  to  try,  is  to  belong  to  one  an- 
other. And  if  we  do  our  best,  Lorna,  God  alone  can  prevent 
us." 

She  crossed  herself,  with  one  hand  drawn  free,  as  I  spoke 
so  boldly;  and  something  swelled  in  her  little  throat,  and 
prevented  her  from  answering. 

"Now  tell  me,"  I  said;  "what  means  all  this?  Why  are 
you  so  pent  up  here?  Why  have  you  given  me  no  token? 
Has  your  grandfather  turned  against  you?  Are  you  in  any 
danger?" 

"  My  poor  grandfather  is  very  ill :  I  fear  that  he  will  not 


A    VERY  DESPERATE   VENTURE.  257 

live  long.  The  Counsellor  and  his  son  are  now  the  masters  of 
the  valley;  and  I  dare  not  venture  forth,  for  fear  of  any  thing 
they  might  do  to  me.  When  I  went  forth,  to  signal  for  you, 
Carver  tried  to  seize  me;  but  I  was  too  quick  for  him.  Little 
Gwenny  is  not  allowed  to  leave  the  valley  now;  so  that  I 
could  send  no  message.  I  have  been  so  wretched,  dear,  lest 
you  should  think  me  false  to  you.  The  tyrants  now  make 
sure  of  me.  You  must  watch  this  house,  both  night  and  day, 
if  you  wish  to  save  me.  There  is  nothing  they  would  shrink 
from,  if  my  poor  grandfather  —  oh,  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
myself,  when  I  ought  to  think  of  him  only;  dying  without  a 
son  to  tend  him,  or  a  daughter  to  shed  a  tear." 

"But  surely  he  has  sons  enough;  and  a  deal  too  many,"  I 
was  going  to  say,  but  stopped  myself  in  time :  "  why  do  none 
of  them'  come  to  him?  " 

" I  know  not.  I  cannot  tell.  He  is  a  very  strange  old  man; 
and  few  have  ever  loved  him.  He  was  black  with  wrath  at 
the  Counsellor,  this  very  afternoon  —  but  I  must  not  keep  you 
here  — you  are  much  too  brave,  John;  and  I  am  much  too  self- 
ish: there,  what  was  that  shadow?" 

"Nothing  more  than  a  bat,  darling,  come  to  look  for  his 
sweetheart.  I  will  not  stay  long;  you  tremble  so:  and  yet 
for  that  very  reason,  how  can  I  leave  you,  Lorna?  " 

"You  must  —  you  must,"  she  answered;  "I  shall  die  if  they 
hurt  you.  I  hear  the  old  nurse  moving.  Grandfather  is  sure 
to  send  for  me.     Keep  back  from  the  window." 

However,  it  was  only  Gwenny  Carfax,  Lorna's  little  hand- 
maid: my  darling  brought  her  to  the  window,  and  presented 
her  to  me,  almost  laughing  through  her  grief. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  John;  Gwenny,  I  am  so  glad  you  came. 
I  have  Avanted  long  to  introduce  you  to  my  'young  man,'  as 
you  call  him.  It  is  rather  dark,  but  you  can  see  him.  I  wish 
you  to  know  him  again,  Gwenny." 

"  Whoy !  "  cried  Gwenny,  with  great  amazement,  standing  on 
tiptoe  to  look  out,  and  staring  as  if  she  were  weighing  me: 
"her  be  bigger  nor  any  Doone!  Heared  as  her  have  bate  our 
Garnish  champion  awrastling.  'Twadn't  fair  play  nohow: 
no,  no;  don't  tell  me,  'twadn't  fair  play  nohow." 

"True  enough,  Gwenny,"  I  answered  her;  for  the  play  had 
been  very  unfair  indeed  on  the  side  of  the  Bodmin  champion : 
"it  was  not  a  fair  bout,  little  maid;  I  am  free  to  acknowl- 
edge that."  By  that  answer,  or  rather  by  the  construction 
she  put  upon  it,  the  heart  of  the  Cornish  girl  was  won,  more 
than  by  gold  and  silver. 

VOL.  I.  —  17 


258  LORNA   DOONE. 

"1  shall  knoo  thee  again,  young  man;  no  fear  of  that,"  she 
answered,  nodding  with  an  air  of  patronage.  "  Now,  missis, 
gae  on  coortin',  and  I  wall  gae  outside  and  watch  for  'ee." 
Though  expressed  not  over  delicately,  this  proposal  arose,  no 
doubt,  from  Gwenny's  sense  of  delicacy;  and  I  was  very 
thankful  to  her  for  taking  her  departure. 

"  She  is  the  best  little  thing  in  the  world,"  said  Lorna,  softly 
laughing;  "and  the  queerest,  and  the  truest.  Nothing  will 
bribe  her  against  me.  If  she  seems  to  be  on  the  other  side, 
never,  never  doubt  her.  Now  no  more  of  your  'coortin,'  Jojni! 
I  love  you  far  too  well  for  that.  Yes,  yes,  ever  so  much !  If 
you  will  take  a  mean  advantage  of  me.  As  much  as  ever  you 
like  to  imagine;  and  then  you  may  double  it,  after  that. 
Only  go,  do  go,  good  John;  kind,  dear,  darling  John;  if  you 
love  me,  go." 

"How  can  I  go,  without  settling  any  thing?"  I  asked,  very 
sensibly.  "  How  shall  I  know  of  your  danger  now?  Hit  upon 
something;  joii  are  so  quick.  Any  thing  you  can  think  of; 
and  then  I  will  go,  and  not  frighten  you." 

"I  have  been  thinking  long  of  something,"  Lorna  answered 
rapidly,  with  that  peculiar  clearness  of  voice,  which  made 
every  syllable  ring  like  music  of  a  several  note,  "you  see  that 
tree  with  the  seven  rooks'  nests,  bright  against  the  cliffs 
there?  Can  you  count  them,  from  above,  do  you  think? 
From  a  place  where  you  will  be  safe,  dear " 

"No  doubt,  I  can;  or  if  I  cannot,  it  will  not  take  me  long 
to  find  a  spot  whence  I  can  do  it." 

"  Gwenny  can  climb  like  any  cat.  She  has  been  up  there  in 
the  summer,  watching  the  young  birds,  day  by  day,  and  dar- 
ing the  boys  to  touch  them.  There  are  neither  birds,  nor  eggs 
there  now,  of  course,  and  nothing  doing.  If  you  see  but  six 
rooks'  nests,  I  am  in  peril,  and  want  you.  If  you  see  but  five, 
I  am  carried  off  by  Carver." 

"  Good  God !  "  said  I,  at  the  mere  idea,  in  a  tone  which 
frightened  Lorna. 

"Fear  not,  John,"  she  whispered  sadly,  and  my  blood  grew 
cold  at  it:  "I  have  means  to  stop  him;  or  at  least  to  save 
myself.  If  you  can  come  within  one  day  of  that  man's  get- 
ting hold  of  me,  you  will  find  me  quite  unharmed.  After  that 
you  will  find  me  dead,  or  alive,  according  to  circumstances, 
but  in  no  case  such  that  you  need  blush  to  look  at  me." 

Her  dear  sweet  face  was  full  of  pride,  as  even  in  the  gloom 
I  saw:  and  I  would  not  trespass  on  her  feelings,  by  such  a 
thing,  at  such  a  moment,  as  an  attempt  at  any  caress.     I  only 


A   GOOD   TUBN  FOB  JEREMY.  259 

said,  "  God  bless  you,  darling ! ''  and  she  said  the  same  to  me, 
in  a  very  low  sad  voice.  And  then  I  stole  below  Carver's 
house,  in  the  shadow  from  the  eastern  cliff;  and  knowing 
enough  of  the  village  now  to  satisfy  all  necessity,  betook  my- 
self to  my  well-known  track  in  returning  from  the  valley; 
Avhich  was  neither  down  the  waterslide  (a  course  I  feared  in 
the  darkness)  nor  up  the  cliffs  at  Lorna's  bower;  but  a  way  of 
my  own  inventing,  which  there  is  no  need  to  dwell  upon. 

A  weight  of  care  was  off  my  mind;  though  much  of  trouble 
hung  there  still.  One  thing  was  quite  certain  —  if  Lorna 
could  not  have  John  Eidd,  no  one  else  should  have  her.  And 
my  mother,  who  sat  up  for  me,  and  with  me  long  time  after- 
wards, agreed  that  this  was  comfort. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

A    GOOD    TURN    FOR    JEREMY. 

John  Fry  had  now  six  shillings  a  week  of  regular  and  per- 
manent wage,  besides  all  harvest  and  shearing  money,  as  well 
as  a  cottage  rent-free,  and  enough  of  garden -ground  to  rear 
pot-herbs  for  his  wife  and  all  his  family.  Now  the  wages 
appointed  by  our  Justices,  at  the  time  of  sessions,  were  four- 
and-sixpence  a  week  for  summer,  and  a  shilling  less  for  the 
winter-time ;  and  we  could  be  fined,  and  perhaps  imprisoned, 
for  giving  more  than  the  sums  so  fixed.  Therefore  John  Fry 
was  looked  upon  as  the  richest  man  upon  Exmoor,  I  mean  of 
course  among  laborers,  and  there  were  many  jokes  about  rob- 
bing him,  as  if  he  were  the  Mint  of  the  King;  and  Tom  Faggus 
promised  to  try  his  hand,  if  he  came  across  John  on  the  high- 
way, although  he  had  ceased  from  business,  and  was  seeking  a 
Royal  pardon. 

Now  is  it  according  to  human  nature,  or  is  it  a  thing  contra- 
dictory (as  I  would  fain  believe)  ?  But  any  how,  there  was, 
upon  Exmoor,  no  more  discontented  man,  no  man  more  sure 
that  he  had  not  his  worth,  neither  half  so  sore  about  it,  than, 
or  as,  John  Fry  was.  And  one  thing  he  did,  which  I  could 
not  Avholly  (or  indeed  I  may  say,  in  any  measure)  reconcile 
with  my  sense  of  right,  much  as  I  labored  to  do  John  justice, 
especially  because  of  his  roguery;  and  this  was,  that  if  we  said 
too  much,  or  accused  him  at  all  of  laziness  (which  he  must 
have  known  to  be  in  him),  he  regularly  turned  round  upon  us, 


260  LORN  A  DOONE. 

and  quite  compelled  us  to  hold  our  tongues,  by  threatening  to 
lay  information  against  us,  for  paying  him  too  much  wages ! 

Now  I  have  not  mentioned  all  this  of  John  Fry,  from  any 
disrespect  for  his  memory  (which  is  green  and  honest  amongst 
us),  far  less  from  any  desire  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  his  grand- 
children; and  I  will  do  them  the  justice,  once  for  all,  to  avow, 
thus  publicly,  that  I  have  known  a  great  many  bigger  rogues ; 
and  most  of  themselves  in  the  number.  But  I  have  referred, 
with  moderation,  to  this  little  flaw  in  a  worthy  character  (or 
foible,  as  we  call  it,  when  a  man  is  dead)  for  this  reason  only 
—  that,  without  it,  there  was  no  explaining  John's  dealings 
with  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Master  Jeremy,  being  full  of  London  ancl  Norwich  experi- 
ence, fell  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  we  clods  and  yokels 
were  the  simplest  of  the  simple,  and  could  be  cheated  at  his 
good  pleasure.  Now  this  is  not  so:  when  once  we  suspect  that 
people  have  that  idea  of  us,  we  indulge  them  in  it  to  the  top  of 
their  bent,  and  grieve  that  they  should  come  out  of  it,  as  they 
do  at  last  in  amazement,  with  less  money  than  before,  and  the 
laugh  now  set  against  them. 

Ever  since  I  had  offended  Jeremy,  by  threatening  him  (as 
before  related)  in  case  of  his  meddling  with  my  affairs,  he  had 
more  and  more  allied  himself  with  simple-minded  John,  as 
he  was  pleased  to  call  him.  John  Fry  was  every  thing:  it 
was  "  run  and  fetch  my  horse,  John  "  —  "  John,  are  my  pis- 
tols primed  well?"  —  "I  want  you  in  the  stable,  John,  about 
something  very  particular;  "  until  except  for  the  rudeness  of 
it,  I  was  longing  to  tell  Master  Stickles  that  he  ought  to  pay 
John's  wages.  John  for  his  part  was  not  backward,  but  gave 
himself  the  most  wonderful  airs  of  secrecy  and  importance, 
till  half  the  parish  began  to  think  that  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
were  in'his  hand ;  and  he  scorned  the  sight  of  a  dungfork. 

It  was  not  likely  that  this  should  last;  and  being  the  only 
man  in  the  parish  with  any  knowledge  of  politics,  I  gave 
John  Fry  to  understand  that  he  must  not  presume  to  talk  so 
freely,  as  if  he  were  at  least  a  constable,  about  the  constitu- 
tion; which  could  be  no  affair  of  his,  and  might  bring  us  all 
into  trouble.  At  this  he  only  tossed  his  nose,  as  if  he  had 
been  in  London  at  least  three  times  for  my  one ;  which  vexed 
me  so  that  I  promised  him  the  thick  end  of  the  plough-whip, 
if  even  the  name  of  a  knight  of  the  shire  should  pass  his  lips 
for  a  fortnigiit. 

Now  I  did  not  suspect  in  my  stupid  noddle,  that  John  Fry 
would   ever  tell   Jeremy    Stickles   about    the    sight    at    the 


A   GOOD   TURN  FOB  JEBEMY.  261 

Wizard's  Slough,  and  the  man  in  the  white  nightcap;  because 
John  had  sworn  on  the  blade  of  his  knife,  not  to  breathe  a 
word  to  any  soul,  without  my  full  permission.  However,  it 
appears  that  John  related,  for  a  certain  consideration,  all  that 
he  had  seen,  and  doubtless  more  which  had  accrued  to  it. 
Upon  this  Master  Stickles  was  much  astonished  at  Uncle 
Reuben's  proceedings,  having  always  accounted  him  a  most 
loyal,  keen,  and  wary  subject. 

All  this  I  learned  upon  recovering  Jeremy's  good  graces, 
which  came  to  pass  in  no  other  way  than  by  the  saving  of  his 
life.  Being  bound  to  keep  the  strictest  watch  upon  the  seven 
rooks'  nests,  and  yet  not  bearing  to  be  idle,  and  to  waste  my 
mother's  stores,  I  contrived  to  keep  my  work  entirely  at  the 
western  corner  of  our  farm,  which  was  nearest  to  Glen  Doone, 
and  whence  I  could  easily  run  to  a  height  commanding  the 
view  I  coveted. 

One  day.  Squire  Faggus  had  dropped  in  upon  us,  just  in 
time  for  dinner;  and  very  soon  he  and  King's  messenger  were 
as  thick  as  need  be.  Tom  had  brought  his  beloved  mare,  to 
show  her  oft'  to  Annie,  and  he  mounted  his  pretty  sweetheart 
upon  her,  after  giving  Winnie  notice  to  be  on  her  very  best 
behavior.  The  squire  was  in  great  spirits,  having  just  accom- 
plished a  purchase  of  land  which  was  worth  ten  times  what  he 
gave  for  it;  and  this  he  did  by  a  merry  trick  upon  old  Sir 
Roger  Bassett,  who  never  supposed  him  to  be  in  earnest,  as  not 
possessing  the  money.  The  whole  thing  was  done  on  a  bumper 
of  claret,  in  a  tavern  where  thej  met;  and  the  old  knight, 
having  once  pledged  his  word,  no  lawyers  could  hold  him  back 
from  it.  They  could  only  say  that  Master  Faggus,  being 
attainted  of  felony,  was  not  a  capable  grantee.  "I  will  soon 
cure  that,"  quoth  Tom,  "my  pardon  has  been  ready  for  months 
and  months,  so  soon  as  I  care  to  sue  it." 

And  now  he  was  telling  our  Annie,  who  listened  very  rosily, 
and  believed  every  word  he  said,  that,  having  been  ruined  in 
early  innocence  by  the  means  of  lawyers,  it  was  only  just,  and 
fair  turn  for  turn,  that  having  became  a  match  for  them  by 
long  practice  upon  the  highway,  he  should  reinstate  himself, 
at  their  expense,  in  society.  And  now  he  would  go  to  London 
at  once,  and  sue  out  his  pardon;  and  then  would  his  lovely 
darling  Annie,  &c.,  &c.  — things  which  I  had  no  right  to  hear, 
and  in  which  I  was  not  wanted. 

Therefore  I  strode  away  up  the  lane  to  my  afternoon's 
employment,  sadly  comparing  my  love  with  theirs  (which  now 
appeared  so  prosperous),  yet  heartily  glad  for  Annie's  sake; 


262  LOUNA   UOONK 

only  remembering  now  and  then  the  old  proverb,  "Wrong 
never  comes  right." 

I  worked  very  hard  in  the  copse  of  young  ash,  with  my  bill- 
hook and  a  shearing-knife:  cutting  out  the  saplings  where 
they  stooled  too  close  together,  making  spars  to  keep  for 
thatching,  wall-crooks  to  drive  into  the  cob,  stiles  for  close 
sheep-hurdles,  and  handles  for  rakes,  and  hoes,  and  two-bills, 
of  the  larger  and  straighter  stuff.  And  all  the  lesser  I  bound 
in  faggots,  to  come  home  on  the  sledd  to  the  woodrick.  It  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  I  did  all  this  work,  without  many 
peeps  at  the  seven  rooks'  nests,  which  proved  my  Lorna's 
safety.  Indeed,  whenever  I  wanted  a  change,  either  from 
cleaving,  or  hewing  too  hard,  or  stooping  too  much  at  bind- 
ing, I  was  up  and  away  to  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  instead  of 
standing  and  doing  nothing. 

Soon  I  forgot  about  Tom  and  Annie ;  and  fell  to  thinking  of 
Lorna  only;  and  how  much  I  would  make  of  her;  and  what 
I  should  call  our  children;  and  how  I  would  educate  them,  to 
do  honor  to  her  rank;  yet  all  the  time  I  worked  none  the 
worse,  by  reason  of  meditation.  Eresh-cut  spars  are  not  so 
good  as  those  of  a  little  seasoning;  especially  if  the  sap  was 
not  gone  down  at  the  time  of  cutting.  Therefore  we  always 
find  it  needful  to  have  plenty  still  in  stock. 

It  was  very  pleasant  there  in  the  copse,  sloping  to  the  west 
as  it  was,  and  the  sun  descending  brightly,  with  rocks  and 
banks  to  dwell  upon.  Tlie  stems  of  mottled  and  dimpled  wood, 
with  twigs  coming  out  like  elbows,  hung  and  clung  together 
closely,  with  a  mode  of  bending  in,  as  children  do  at  some 
danger;  overhead  the  shrunken  leaves  quivered  and  rustled 
ripely,  having  many  points  like  stars,  and  rising  and  falling 
delicately,  as  fingers  play  sad  music.  Along  the  bed  of  the 
slanting  ground,  all  between  the  stools  of  wood,  there  were 
heaps  of  dead  brown  leaves,  and  sheltered  mats  of  lichen,  and 
drifts  of  spotted  stick  gone  rotten,  and  tufts  of  rushes  here 
and  there,  full  of  fray  and  feathering. 

All  by  the  hedge  ran  a  little  stream,  a  thing  that  could 
bxrely  name  itself,  flowing  scarce  more  than  a  pint  in  a 
minute,  because  of  the  sunny  weather.  Yet  had  this  rill 
little  crooks  and  crannies,  dark  and  bravely  bearded,  and  a 
gallant  rush  through  a  reeden  pipe  —  the  stem  of  a  flag  that 
was  grounded;  and  here  and  there  divided  threads,  from  the 
points  of  a  branching  stick,  into  mighty  pools  of  rock  (as 
large  as  a  grown  man's  hat  almost)  napped  with  moss  all 
around  the  sides  and  hung  with  corded  grasses.     Along  and 


A    GOOD    TURN  FOE  JEREMY.  263 

down  the  tiny  banks,  and  nodding  into  one  another,  even 
across  main  channel,  hnng  the  brown  arcade  of  ferns;  some 
with  gokl  tongues  languishing;  some  with  countless  ear-drops 
jerking;  some  with  great  quilled  ribs  uprising  and  long  saws 
aflapping;  others  cupped,  and  fanning  over  with  the  grace  of 
yielding,  even  as  a  hollow  fountain  spread  by  winds  that  have 
lost  their  way. 

Deeply  each  beyond  other,  pluming,  stooping,  glancing, 
glistening,  weaving  softest  pillow-lace,  coying  to  the  wind  and 
water,  where  their  fleeting  image  danced,  or  by  which  their 
beauty  moved, — God  has  made  no  lovelier  thing;  and  only 
He  takes  heed  of  them. 

It  was  time  to  go  home  to  supper  now,  and  I  felt  very 
friendly  towards  it,  having  been  hard  at  work  for  some  hours, 
with  only  the  voice  of  the  little  rill,  and  some  hares,  and  a 
pheasant,  for  company.  The  sun  was  gone  down  behind  the 
black  wood  on  the  further  cliffs  of  Bagworthy,  and  the  russet 
of  the  tufts  and  spear-beds  was  becoming  gray,  while  the 
grayness  of  the  sapling  ash  grew  brown  against  the  sky; 
the  hollow  curves  of  the  little  stream  became  black  beneath 
the  grasses  and  the  fairy  fans  innumerable;  while  outside  the 
hedge  our  clover  was  crimping  its  leaves  in  the  dewfall,  like 
the  cocked  hats  of  wood-sorrel,  —  when,  thanking  God  for  all 
this  scene,  because  my  love  had  gifted  me  with  the  key  to  all 
things  lovely,  I  prepared  to  follow  their  example,  and  to  rest 
from  labor. 

Therefore  I  wiped  my  bill-hook  and  shearing-knife  very 
carefully,  for  I  hate  to  leave  tools  dirty;  and  was  doubting 
whether  I  should  try  for  another  glance  at  the  seven  rooks' 
nests,  or  whether  it  would  be  too  dark  for  it.  It  was  now  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  mayhap,  since  I  had  made  any  chopping 
noise,  because  I  had  been  assorting  my  spars,  and  tying  them 
in  bundles,  instead  of  plying  the  bill-hook;  and  the  gentle 
tinkle  of  the  stream  was  louder  than  my  doings.  To  this,  no 
doubt,  I  owe  my  life,  Avhich  then  (without  my  dreaming  it) 
was  in  no  little  jeopardy. 

For,  just  as  I  was  twisting  the  bine  of  my  very  last  faggot, 
before  tucking  the  cleft  tongue  under,  there  came  three  men 
outside  the  hedge,  where  the  western  light  was  yellow;  and 
by  it  I  could  see  that  all  three  of  them  carried  fire-arms. 
These  men  were  not  walking  carelessly,  but  following  down 
the  hedge-trough,  as  if  to  stalk  some  enemy :  and  for  a  moment 
it  struck  me  cold,  to  think  it  was  I  they  were  looking  for. 
With  the  swiftness  of  terror,  I  concluded  that  my  visits  to 
Glen  Doone  were  known,  and  now  my  life  was  the  forfeit. 


264  LORN  A   BOONE. 

It  was  a  most  lucky  thing  for  ma,  that  I  heard  their  clothes 
catch  in  the  brambles,  and  saw  their  hats  under  the  rampart 
of  ash,  which  is  made  by  what  we  call  "splashing,"  and  lucky 
for  me  that  I  stood  in  a  goyal,  and  had  the  dark  coppice  behind 
me.  To  this  1  had  no  time  to  fly,  but  with  a  sort  of  instinct, 
threw  myself  flat  in  among  the  thick  fern,  and  held  my  breath, 
and  lay  still  as  a  log.  For  I  had  seen  the  light  gleam  on  their 
gun-barrels,  and  knowing  the  faults  of  the  neighborliood, 
would  fain  avoid  swelling  their  number.  Then  the  three  men 
came  to  the  gap  in  the  hedge,  where  I  had  been  in  and  out  so 
often ;  and  stood  up,  and  looked  in  over. 

It  is  all  very  well  for  a  man  to  boast  that,  in  all  his  life,  he 
has  never  been  frightened,  and  believes  that  he  never  could  be 
so.  There  may  be  men  of  that  nature  —  I  will  not  dare  to  deny 
it;  only  I  have  never  known  them.  The  fright  I  was  now  in 
was  horrible,  and  all  my  bones  seemed  to  creep  inside  me; 
when  lying  there  helpless,  with  only  a  billet  and  the  comb  of 
fern  to  hide  me,  in  the  dusk  of  early  evening,  I  saw  three 
faces  in  the  gap;  and  what  was  worse,  three  gun-muzzles. 

"  Somebody  been  at  work  here  —  "  it  was  the  deep  voice  of 
Carver  Doone;  "jump  up,  Charlie,  and  look  about;  we  must 
have  no  witnesses." 

"Give  me  a  hand  behind,"  said  Charlie,  the  same  handsome 
young  Doone  I  had  seen  that  night;  "this  bank  is  too  devilish 
steep  for  me." 

"  Nonsense,  man !  "  cried  Marwood  de  Whichehalse,  who  to 
my  amazement  was  the  third  of  the  number;  "only  a  hind 
cutting  faggots ;  and  of  course  he  hath  gone  home  long  ago. 
Blind  man's  holiday,  as  we  call  it.  I  can  see  all  over  the 
place;  and  there  is  not  even  a  rabbit  there." 

At  that  I  drew  my  breath  again,  and  thanked  God  I  had 
gotten  my  coat  on. 

"Squire  is  right,"  said  Charlie,  who  was  standing  up  high 
(on  a  root  perhaps),  "there  is  nobody  there  now,  captain;  and 
lucky  for  the  poor  devil  that  he  keepeth  workman's  hours. 
Even  his  chopper  is  gone,  1  see." 

"No  dog,  no  man,  is  the  rule  about  here,  when  it  comes  to 
coppice  work,"  continued  young  de  Whichehalse;  "there  is 
not  a  man  would  dare  work  there,  without  a  dog  to  scare  the 
pixies." 

" There  is  a  big  young  fellow  upon  this  farm,"  Carver  Doone 
muttered  sulkily,  "with  whom  I  have  an  account  to  settle,  if 
ever  I  come  across  him.  He  hath  a  cursed  spite  to  us,  be- 
cause we  shot  his  father.     He  was  going  to  bring  the  lumpers 


A    GOOD    TURN   FOR   JEREMY.  265 

upon  us,  only  he  was  afeared,  last  winter.  And  he  hath  been 
in  London  lately,  for  some  traiterous  job,  I  doubt." 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  fool,  John  Eidd,"  answered  the  young 
squire;  "a  very  simple  clod-hopper.  No  treacher}^  in  him,  I 
warrant;  he  hath  not  the  head  for  it.  All  he  cares  about  is 
wrestling.     As  strong  as  a  bull,  and  with  no  more  brains." 

"  A  bullet  for  that  bull,"  said  Carver;  and  I  could  see  the 
grin  on  his  scornful  face;  "a  bullet  for  ballast  to  his  brain, 
the  first  time  I  come  across  him." 

"Xonsense,  captain!  I  won't  have  him  shot,  for  he  is  my 
old  school-fellow,  and  hath  a  very  pretty  sister.  But  his 
cousin  is  of  a  different  mould,  and  ten  times  as  dangerous." 

"We  shall  see,  lads,  we  shall  see,"  grumbled  the  great  black- 
bearded  man.  "Ill  bodes  for  the  fool  that  would  hinder  me. 
But  come,  let  us  onward.  No  lingering,  or  the  viper  will  be 
in  the  bush  from  us.  Body  and  soul,  if  he  give  us  the  slip, 
both  of  you  shall  answer  it." 

"No  fear,  captain,  and  no  hurry,"  Charlie  answered  gal- 
lantly ;  "  would  I  were  as  sure  of  living  a  twelvemonth,  as  he 
is  of  dying  within  the  hour!  Extreme  unction  for  him  in  my 
bullet  patch.  Remember,  I  claim  to  be  his  confessor,  because 
he  hath  insulted  me." 

"Thou  art  welcome  to  the  job  for  me,"  said  Marwood,  as 
they  turned  away,  and  kept  along  the  hedge-row;  "I  love  to 
me3t  a  man,  sword  to  sword;  not  to  pop  at  him  from  a  fox- 
hole." 

What  answer  was  made  I  could  not  hear,  for  by  this  time 
the  stout  ashen  hedge  was  between  us,  and  no  other  gap  to  be 
found  in  it,  until  at  the  very  bottom,  where  the  corner  of  the 
copse  was.  Yet  was  I  not  quit  of  danger  now;  for  they  might 
come  through  that  second  gap,  and  then  would  be  sure  to  see 
me,  unless  I  crept  into  the  uncut  thicket,  before  they  could 
enter  the  clearing.  But  in  spite  of  all  my  fear,  I  was  not  wise 
enough  to  do  that.  And  in  truth,  the  words  of  Carver  Doone 
had  filled  me  with  such  anger,  knowing  what  I  did  about  him, 
and  his  pretence  to  Lorna;  and  the  sight  of  Squire  Marwood, 
in  such  outrageous  company,  had  so  moved  my  curiosity,  and 
their  threats  against  some  unknown  person  so  aroused  my  pity, 
that  much  of  my  prudence  was  forgotten,  or  at  least  the  better 
part  of  courage,  which  loves  danger  at  long  distance. 

Therefore,  holding  fast  my  bill-hook,  I  dropped  myself  very 
quietly  into  the  bed  of  the  runnel,  being  resolved  to  take  my 
chance  of  their  entrance  at  the  corner,  where  the  water  dived 
through   the  hedge-row.     And  so  I  followed  them  down  the 


266  LOliNA   DOONE. 

fence,  as  gently  as  a  rabbit  goes;  only  1  was  inside  it,  and 
they  on  the  outside;  but  yet  so  near,  that  I  heard  the  branches 
rustle  as  they  pushed  them. 

Perhaps  I  had  never  loved  ferns  so  much  as  when  I  came  to 
the  end  of  that  little  gully,  and  stooped  betwixt  two  patches 
of  them,  now  my  chiefest  shelter ;  for  cattle  had  been  through 
the  gap  just  there,  in  quest  of  fodder  and  coolness,  and  had 
left  but  a  mound  of  trodden  earth  between  me  and  the  out- 
laws. I  mean  at  least  on  my  left  hand  (upon  which  side  they 
were),  for  in  front  where  the  brook  ran  out  of  the  copse  was  a 
good  stiff  hedge  of  holly.  And  now  I  prayed  Heaven  to  lead 
them  straight  on;  for  if  they  once  turned  to  their  right, 
through  the  gap,  the  muzzles  of  their  guns  would  come  almost 
against  my  forehead. 

I  heard  them,  for  I  durst  not  look ;  and  could  scarce  keep 
still,  for  trembling  —  I  heard  them  trampling  outside  the  gap; 
uncertain  which  track  they  should  follow.  And  in  that  fear- 
ful moment,  with  my  soul  almost  looking  out  of  my  body, 
expecting  notice  to  quit  it,  what  do  you  think  I  did?  I 
counted  the  threads  in  a  spider's  web,  and  the  flies  he  had 
lately  eaten,  as  their  skeletons  shook  in  the  twilight. 

"We  shall  see  him  better  in  there,"  said  Carver,  in  his  hor- 
rible gruff  voice,  like  the  creaking  of  the  gallows  chain;  "sit 
there,  behind  holly  hedge,  lads,  while  he  cometh  down  yonder 
hill;  and  then  our  good  evening  to  him;  one  at  his  body,  and 
two  at  his  head;  and  good  aim,  lest  we  baulk  the  devil." 

"I  tell  you,  captain,  that  will  not  do,"  said  Charlie,  almost 
whispering:  "you  are  very  proud  of  your  skill,  we  know,  and 
can  hit  a  lark  if  you  see  it :  but  he  may  not  come  until  after 
dark,  and  we  cannot  be  too  nigh  to  him.  This  holly  hedge  is 
too  far  away.  He  crosses  down  here  from  Slocombslade,  not 
from  Tibbacot,  I  tell  you;  but  along  that  track  to  the  left 
there,  and  so  by  the  foreland  to  Glenthorne,  where  his  boat  is 
in  the  cove.  Do  you  think  I  have  tracked  him  so  many  even- 
ings, without  knowing  his  line  to  a  hair?  Will  you  fool  away 
all  my  trouble?" 

"Come  then,  lad;  we  will  follow  thy  lead.  Thy  life  for 
his,  if  we  fail  of  it." 

"After  me  then,  right  into  the  hollow;  thy  legs  are  grow- 
ing stiff,  captain." 

"  So  shall  thy  body  be,  young  man,  if  thou  leadest  me  astray 
in  this." 

I  heard  them  stumbling  down  the  hill,  which  was  steep  and 
rocky   in  that  part;  and  peering  through   the  hedge,  I   saw 


A    GOOD    TURN  FOR  JEREMY.  267 

them  enter  a  covert,  by  the  side  of  the  track  which  Master 
Stickles  followed,  almost  every  evening,  when  he  left  our 
house  upon  business.  And  then  I  knew  who  it  was  they  were 
come  on  purpose  to  murder  —  a  thing  which  I  might  have 
guessed  long  before,  but  for  terror  and  cold  stupidity. 

"Oh  that  God,"  I  thought  for  a  moment,  waiting  for  my 
blood  to  flow;  "oh  that  God  had  given  me  brains,  to  meet 
such  cruel  dastards  according  to  their  villany!  The  power 
to  lie,  and  the  love  of  it ;  the  stealth  to  spy,  and  the  glory  in 
it;  above  all,  the  quiet  relish  for  blood,  and  joy  in  the  death 
of  an  enemy  —  these  are  what  any  man  must  have,  to  contend 
with  the  Doones  upon  even  terms.  And  yet,  I  thank  God  that 
I  have  not  any  of  these." 

It  was  no  time  to  dwell  upon  that,  only  to  try,  if  might  be, 
to  prevent  the  crime  they  were  bound  upon.  To  follow  the 
armed  men  down  the  hill  would  have  been  certain  death  to  me, 
because  there  was  no  covert  there,  and  the  last  light  hung  upon 
it.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  my  only  chance  to  stop  the  mis- 
chief pending  was  to  compass  the  round  of  the  hill,  as  fast  as 
feet  could  be  laid  to  ground;  only  keeping  out  of  sight  from 
the  valley,  and  then  down  the  rocks,  and  across  the  brook,  to 
the  track  from  Slocombslade ;  so  as  to  stop  the  king's  messen- 
ger from  travelling  any  further,  if  only  I  could  catch  him 
there. 

And  this  was  exactly  what  I  did ;  and  a  terrible  run  I  had 
for  it,  fearing  at  every  step  to  hear  the  echo  of  shots  in  the 
valley,  and  dropping  down  the  scrubby  rocks  with  tearing  and 
violent  scratching.  Then  I  crossed  Bagworthy  stream,  not  far 
below  Doone-valley,  and  breasted  the  hill  towards  Slocomb- 
slade, with  my  heart  very  heavily  panting.  Why  Jeremy  chose 
to  ride  this  way,  instead  of  the  more  direct  one  (which  would 
have  been  over  Oare-hill),  was  more  than  I  could  account  for  : 
but  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  that;  all  I  wanted  was  to  save 
his  life. 

And  this  I  did  by  about  a  minute ;  and  (which  was  the  hard- 
est thing  of  all)  with  a  great  horse -pistol  at  my  head,  as  I 
seized  upon  his  bridle. 

"Jeremy,  Jerry,"  was  all  I  could  say,  being  so  fearfully 
short  of  breath;  for  I  had  crossed  the  ground  quicker  than 
any  horse  could. 

"  Spoken  just  in  time,  John  Ridd!"  cried  Master  Stickles, 
still  however  pointing  the  pistol  at  me :  "  I  might  have  known 
thee  by  thy  size,  John.     What  art  doing  here?" 

"  Come  to  save  vour  life.     For  God's  sake,  go  no  further. 


268  LORNA   DOONE. 

Three  men  in  the  covert  there,  with  long  guns,  waiting  for 
thee." 

"  Ha !  I  have  been  watched  of  late.  That  is  why  I  pointed 
at  thee,  John.  Back  round  this  corner,  and  get  thy  breath, 
and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  hurried.  I 
could  beat  thee  now,  John." 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  a  man  of  courage,  and  presence  of 
mind,  and  much  resource :  otherwise  he  would  not  have  been 
appointed  for  this  business;  nevertheless  he  trembled  greatly, 
when  he  heard  what  I  had  to  tell  him.  But  I  took  good  care 
to  keep  back  the  name  of  young  Marwood  de  Whichehalse; 
neither  did  I  show  my  knowledge  of  the  other  men;  for  rea- 
sons of  my  own  not  very  hard  to  conjecture. 

"  We  will  let  them  cool  their  heels,  John  Ridd,"  said  Jeremy, 
after  thinking  a  little.  "  I  cannot  fetch  my  musketeers  either 
from  Glenthorne  or  Lynmouth,  in  time  to  seize  the  fellows. 
And  three  desperate  Doones,  well-armed,  are  too  many  for 
you  and  me.  One  result  this  attempt  will  have,  it  will  make 
us  attack  them  sooner  than  we  had  intended.  And  one  more 
it  will  have,  good  John,  it  will  make  me  thy  friend  for  ever. 
Shake  hands,  my  lad,  and  forgive  me  freely  for  having  been 
so  cold  to  thee.  Mayhap,  in  the  troubles  coming,  it  will  help 
thee  not  a  little  to  have  done  me  this  good  turn." 

Upon  that  he  shook  me  by  the  hand,  with  a  pressure  such 
as  we  feel  not  often;  and  having  learned  from  me  how  to  pass 
quite  beyond  view  of  his  enemies,  he  rode  on  to  his  duty, 
whatever  it  might  be.  For  my  part,  I  was  inclined  to  stay, 
and  watch  how  long  the  three  fusileers  would  have  the  patience 
to  lie  in  wait;  but  seeing  less  and  less  use  in  that,  as  I  grew 
more  and  more  hungry,  I  swung  my  coat  about  me,  and  went 
home  to  Plover's  Barrows. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

A    TROUBLED    STATE    AND    A    FOOLISH    JOKE. 

Stickles  took  me  aside  the  next  day,  and  opened  all  his 
business  to  me,  whether  I  would  or  not.  But  I  gave  him  clearly 
to  understand  that  he  was  not  to  be  vexed  with  me,  neither  to 
regard  me  as  in  any  way  dishonest,  if  I  should  use  for  my  own 
purpose,  or  for  the  benefit  of  my  friends,  any  part  of  the 
knowledge,  and  privity,  thus  enforced  upon  me.     To  this  he 


"As     I     SEIZED     UPON     HIS     BRIDLE."  —  Vol.    I.    p.    267. 


A    TROUBLED   STATE   AND   A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      269 

agreed  quite  readily;  but  upon  the  express  provision  that  I 
should  do  nothing  to  thwart  his  schemes,  neither  unfold  them 
to  any  one;  but  otherwise  be  allowed  to  act  according  to  my 
own  conscience,  and  as  consisted  with  the  honor  of  a  loyal 
gentleman  —  for  so  he  was  pleased  to  term  me.  Now  what  he 
said  lay  in  no  great  compass,  and  may  be  summed  in  smaller 
still;  especially  as  people  know  the  chief  part  of  it  already. 
Disaffection  to  the  King,  or  rather  dislike  to  his  brother, 
James,  and  fear  of  Roman  ascendancy,  had  existed  now  for 
several  years,  and  of  late  we^-e  spreading  rapidly;  partly 
through  the  downright  arrogance  of  the  Tory  faction,  the 
cruelty  and  austerity  of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  corruption  of 
justice,  and  confiscation  of  ancient  rights  and  charters ;  partly 
through  jealousy  of  the  French  king,  and  his  potent  voice  in 
our  affairs ;  and  partly  (or  perhaps  one  might  even  say,  mainly) 
through  that  natural  tide  in  all  political  channels,  which 
verily  moves  as  if  it  had  the  moon  itself  for  its  mistress.  No 
sooner  is  a  thing  done  and  fixed,  being  set  far  in  advance 
perhaps  of  all  that  was  done  before  (like  a  new  mole  in  the 
sea),  but  immediately  the  waters  retire,  lest  they  should 
undo  it;  and  every  one  says  how  tine  it  is,  but  leaves  other 
people  to  walk  on  it.  Then  after  awhile,  the  vague  endless 
ocean,  having  retired  and  lain  still  without  a  breeze  or  mur- 
mur, frets  and  heaves  again  with  impulse,  or  with  lashes  laid 
on  it,  and  in  one  great  surge  advances  over  every  rampart. 

And  so  there  was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  a  great  surge  in 
England,  not  rolling  yet,  but  seething:  and  one  which  a 
thousand  Chief  Justices,  and  a  million  Jeremy  Stickles, 
should  never  be  able  to  stop  or  turn,  by  stringing  up  men  in 
front  of  it;  any  more  than  a  rope  of  onions  can  repulse  a  vol- 
cano. But  the  worst  of  it  was,  that  this  great  movement  took 
a  wrong  channel  at  tirst;  not  only  missing  legitimate  line, 
but  roaring  out  that  the  back  ditchway  was  the  true  and  estab- 
lished course  of  it. 

Against  this  rash  and  random  current  nearly  all  the  ancient 
mariners  of  the  State  were  set;  not  to  allow  the  brave  ship  to 
drift  there,  though  some  little  boats  might  try  it.  For  the 
present  there  seemed  to  be  a  pause,  with  no  open  onset,  but 
people  on  the  shore  expecting,  each  according  to  his  wishes, 
and  the  feel  of  his  own  finger,  whence  the  rush  of  wind  should 
come,  which  might  direct  the  water. 

Now,  —  to  reduce  high  figures  of  speech  into  our  own  little 
numerals, —  all  the  towns  of  Somersetshire  and  lialf  the  towns 
of    Devonshire  were    full  of   pusliing  eager  people,   ready  to 


270  LORNA    DOONE. 

swallow  any  thing,  or  to  make  others  swallow  it.  Whether 
they  believed  the  folly  about  the  black  box,  and  all  that  stuff, 
is  not  for  me  to  say  j  only  one  thing  I  know,  they  pretended 
to  do  so,  and  persuaded  the  ignorant  rustics.  Taunton, 
Bridgewater,  Minehead,  and  Dulverton  took  the  lead  of  the 
other  towns  in  utterance  of  their  discontent,  and  threats  of 
what  they  meant  to  do,  if  ever  a  Papist  dared  to  climb  the 
Protestant  throne  of  England.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Tory 
leaders  were  not  as  yet  under  apprehension  of  an  immediate 
outbreak,  and  feared  to  damage  their  own  cause  by  premature 
coercion,  for  the  struggle  was  not  very  likely  to  begin  in  ear- 
nest, during  the  life  of  the  present  King;  unless  he  should  (as 
some  people  hoped)  be  so  far  emboldened  as  to  make  public 
profession  of  the  faith  which  he  held  (if  any).  So  the  Tory 
policy  was  to  watch,  not  indeed  permitting  their  opponents  to 
gather  strength,  and  muster  in  armed  force  or  with  order,  but 
being  well  apprised  of  all  their  schemes  and  intended  move- 
ments, to  wait  for  some  bold  overt  act,  and  then  to  strike 
severely.  And  as  a  Tory  watchman  —  or  spy,  as  the  Whigs 
would  call  him  —  Jeremy  Stickles^ was  now  among  us;  and 
his  duty  was  threefold. 

First,  and  most  ostensibly,  to  see  to  the  levying  of  poundage 
in  the  little  haven  of  Lynmouth,  and  further  up  the  coast, 
which  was  now  becoming  a  place  of  resort  for  the  folk  whom 
we  call  smugglers,  that  is  to  say,  who  land  their  goods  with- 
out regard  to  King's  revenue,  as  by  law  established.  And 
indeed  there  had  been  no  officer  appointed  to  take  toll,  until 
one  had  been  sent  to  Minehead,  not  so  very  long  before.  The 
excise  as  well  (which  had  been  ordered  in  the  time  of  the  Long 
Parliament)  had  been  little  heeded  by  the  people  hereabouts. 

Second,  his  duty  was  (though  only  the  Doones  had  dis- 
covered it)  to  watch  those  outlaws  narrowly,  and  report  of 
their  manners  (which  were  scanty),  doings  (which  were  too 
manifold),  reputation  (which  was  execrable),  and  politics 
(whether  true  to  the  King  and  the  Pope,  or  otherwise). 

Jeremy  Stickles'  third  business  was  entirely  political;  to 
learn  the  temper  of  our  people  and  the  gentle  families,  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  trained  bands  (which  could  not 
always  be  trusted),  to  discover  any  collecting  of  arms  and 
drilling  of  men  among  us,  to  prevent  (if  need  were,  by  open 
force)  any  importation  of  gunpowder,  of  wliich  there  had 
been  some  rumor;  in  a  word,  to  observe  and  forestall  the 
enemy. 

!N"ow  in  providing  for  this  last-mentioned  service,  the  Gov- 


A   TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      271 

eminent  had  made  a  great  mistake,  doubtless  through  their 
anxiety  to  escape  any  public  attention.  For  all  the  disposa- 
ble force  at  their  emissary's  command  amounted  to  no  more 
than  a  score  of  musketeers,  and  these  so  divided  along  the 
coast  as  scarcely  to  suffice  for  the  duty  of  sentinels.  He  held 
a  commission,  it  is  true,  for  the  employment  of  the  train- 
bands, but  upon  the  understanding  that  he  was  not  to  call  upon 
them  (except  as  a  last  resource)  for  any  political  object; 
although  he  might  use  them  against  the  Doones  as  private 
criminals,  if  found  needful;  and  supposing  that  he  could  get 
them. 

''So  you  see,  John,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "I  have  more 
work  than  tools  to  do  it  with.  I  am  heartily  sorry  I  ever 
accepted  such  a  mixed  and  meagre  commission.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  it  lies  (I  am  well  convinced)  not  only  the  desire  to 
keep  things  quiet,  but  the  paltry  jealousy  of  the  military 
people.  Because  I  am  not  a  Colonel,  forsooth,  or  a  Captain 
in  His  Majesty's  service,  it  would  never  do  to  trust  me  with 
a  company  of  soldiers !  And  yet  they  would  not  send  either 
Colonel  or  Captain,  for  fear  of  a  stir  in  the  rustic  mind.  The 
only  thing  that  I  can  do,  with  any  chance  of  success,  is  to  rout 
out  these  vile  Doone  fellows,  and  burn  their  houses  over  their 
heads.     ISTow  what  think  you  of  that,  John  Ridd?" 

"Destroy  the  town  of  the  Doones,"  I  said,  "and  all  the 
Doones  inside  it!  Surely,  Jeremy,  you  would  never  think  of 
such  a  cruel  act  as  that !  " 

"A  cruel  act,  John!  It  would  be  a  mercy  for  at  least  three 
counties.  Xo  doubt  you  folk,  who  live  so  near,  are  well 
accustomed  to  them,  and  would  miss  your  liveliness  in  com- 
ing home  after  nightfall,  and  the  joy  of  hnding  your  sheep  and 
cattle  right,  when  you  not  expected  it.  But  after  awhile  you 
might  get  used  to  the  dulness  of  being  safe  in  your  beds,  and 
not  losing  your  sisters  and  sweethearts.  Surely,  on  the  whole, 
it  is  as  pleasant  not  to  be  robbed  as  to  be  robbed?" 

"I  think  we  should  miss  them  very  much,"  I  answered, 
after  consideration;  for  the  possibility  of  having  no  Dooues 
had  never  yet  occurred  to  me,  and  we  all  were  so  thoroughly 
used  to  them,  and  allowed  for  it  in  our  year's  reckoning;  "I 
am  sure  we  should  miss  them  very  sadly;  and  something 
worse  would  come  of  it." 

"Thou  art  the  staunchest  of  all  staunch  Tories,"  cried 
Stickles,  laughing,  as  he  shook  my  hand ;  "  thou  believest  in 
the  divine  right  of  robbers,  who  are  good  enough  to  steal  thy 
own  fat  sheep.     I  am  a  jolly  Tory,  John;  but  thou  art  ten 


272  LORNA    BOONE. 

times  jollier:  oh!  the  grief  in  thy  face  at  the  thought  of 
being  robbed  no  longer!  " 

He  laughed  in  a  very  unseemly  manner;  while  I  descried 
nothing  to  laugh  about.  For  we  always  like  to  see  our  way; 
and  a  sudden  change  upsets  us.  And  unless  it  were  in  the 
loss  of  the  farm,  or  the  death  of  the  King,  or  of  Betty  Mux- 
worthy,  there  was  nothing  that  could  so  unsettle  our  minds  as 
the  loss  of  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy. 

And  beside  all  this,  I  was  thinking,  of  course,  and  thinking 
more  than  all  the  rest,  about  the  troubles  that  might  ensue  to 
my  own  beloved  Lorna.  If  an  attack  of  Glen  Doone  were 
made  by  savage  soldiers  and  rude  train-bands,  what  might 
happen,  or  what  might  not,  to  my  delicate,  innocent  darling? 
Therefore,  when  Jeremy  Stickles  again  placed  the  matter 
before  me,  commending  my  strength  and  courage,  and  skill  (to 
flatter  me  of  the  highest),  and  hnished  by  saying  that  I  would 
be  worth  at  least  four  common  men  to  him,  I  cut  him  short 
as  follows :  — 

"Master  Stickles,  once  for  all,  I  will  have  naught  to  do 
with  it.  The  reason  why  is  no  odds  of  thine,  nor  in  any  way 
disloyal.  Only  in  thy  plans  remember,  that  I  will  not  strike 
a  blow,  neither  give  any  counsel,  neither  guard  any  prisoners." 

"Not  strike  a  blow,"  cried  Jeremy,  "against  tliy  father's 
murderers,  John !  " 

"Not  a  single  blow,  Jeremy;  unless  I  knew  the  man  who 
did  it,  and  he  gloried  in  his  sin.  It  was  a  foul  and  dastard 
deed,  yet  not  done  in  cold  blood;  neither  in  cold  blood  will  I 
take  the  Lord's  task  of  avenging  it." 

"Very  well,  John,"  answered  Master  Stickles,  "I  know 
thine  obstinacy.  When  thy  mind  is  made  up,  to  argue  with 
thee  is  pelting  a  rock  with  peppercorns.  But  thou  hast  some 
other  reason,  lad,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  over  and  above 
thy  merciful  nature  and  Christian  forgiveness.  Anyhow, 
come  and  see  it,  John.  There  will  be  good  sport,  I  reckon ; 
especially  when  we  thrust  our  claws  into  the  nest  of  the 
ravens.  Many  a  yeoman  will  find  his  daughter,  and  some  of 
the  Porlock  lads  their  sweethearts.  A  nice  young  maiden, 
now,  for  thee,  John ;  if,  indeed,  any " 

"  No  more  of  this !  "  I  answered  very  sternly :  "  it  is  no  busi- 
ness of  thine,  Jeremy;  and  I  will  have  no  joking  upon  this 
matter." 

"Good,  my  lord:  so  be  it.  But  one  thing  I  tell  thee  in 
earnest.  We  will  have  thy  old  double-dealing  uncle.  Hucka- 
back of  Dulverton,    and  march  him  first   to   assault   Doone 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A    FOOLISH  JOKE.      273 

Castle,  sure  as  my  name  is  Stickles.  I  hear  tliat  he  hath 
often  vowed  to  storm  the  valley  himself,  if  only  he  could 
find  a  dozen  musketeers  to  back  him.  Xow,  we  will  give 
him  chance  to  do  it,  and  prove  his  loyalty  to  the  King, 
which  lies  under  some  suspicion  of  late." 

With  regard  to  this,  I  had  nothing  to  say;  for  it  seemed  to 
me  very  reasonable  that  Uncle  Eeuben  should  have  first 
chance  of  recovering  his  stolen  goods,  about  which  he  had 
made  such  a  sad  to-do,  and  promised  himself  such  vengeance. 
I  made  bold  however  to  ask  Master  Stickles,  at  what  time  he 
intended  to  carry  out  this  great  and  hazardous  attempt.  He 
answered  that  he  had  several  things  requiring  first  to  be  set 
in  order,  and  that  he  must  make  an  inland  journey,  even  as 
far  as  Tiverton,  and  perhaps  Crediton  and  Exeter,  to  joUect 
his  forces  and  ammunition  for  them.  For  he  meant  to  have 
some  of  the  yeomanry,  as  well  as  of  the  trained  bands,  so  that 
if  the  Doones  should  sally  forth,  as  perhaps  they  would,  on 
horseback,  cavalry  might  be  there  to  meet  them,  and  cut  them 
off  from  returning. 

All  this  made  me  very  uncomfortable,  for  many  and  many 
reasons,  the  chief  and  foremost  being  of  course  my  anxiety 
about  Lorna.  If  the  attack  succeeded,  what  was  to  become 
of  her?  Who  would  rescue  her  from  the  brutal  soldiers,  even 
supposing  that  she  escaped  from  the  hands  of  her  own  people, 
during  the  danger  and  ferocity?  And  in  smaller  ways,  I  was 
much  put  out;  for  instance,  who  would  ensure  our  corn-ricks, 
sheep,  and  cattle,  ay  and  even  our  fat  pigs,  now  coming  on  for 
bacon,  against  the  spreading  all  over  the  country  of  unlicensed 
marauders?  The  Doones  had  their  rights,  and  understood 
them,  and  took  them  according  to  prescription,  even  as  the 
parsons  had,  and  the  lords  of  manors,  and  the  King  himself, 
God  save  him!  But  how  were  these  low  soldiering  fellows 
(half-starved  at  home  very  likely,  and  only  too  glad  of  the  fat 
of  the  land,  and  ready,  according  to  our  proverb,  to  burn  the 
paper  they  fried  in),  who  were  they,  to  come  hectoring,  and 
heroing  over  us,  and  Heliogabalizing,  with  our  pretty  sisters 
to  cook  for  them,  and  be  chucked  under  chin  perhaps  after- 
wards? There  is  nothing  England  hates  so  much,  according 
to  my  sense  of  it,  as  that  fellows  taken  from  plough-tail,  cart- 
tail,  pot-houses,  and  parish-stocks,  should  be  hoisted  and 
foisted  upon  us  (after  a  few  months'  drilling,  and  their  lying 
shaped  into  truckling)  as  defenders  of  the  public  weal,  and 
heroes  of  the  universe. 

In  another  way,  I  was  vexed  moreover  —  for  after  all  we 

VOL.  I.  —  18 


274  LORNA   DOONE. 

must  consider  the  opinions  of  our  neighbors  —  namely,  that  I 
knew  quite  well  how  every  body  for  ten  miles  round  (for  my 
fame  must  have  been  at  least  that  wide,  after  all  my  wrest- 
ling), would  lift  up  hands  and  cry  out  thus  —  "  Black  shame 
on  John  Kidd,  if  he  lets  them  go  without  him !  " 

Putting  all  these  things  together,  as  well  as  many  others, 
which  your  own  wits  will  suggest  to  you,  it  is  impossible  but 
what  you  will  freely  acknowledge  that  this  unfortunate  John 
Ridd  was  now  in  a  cloven  stick.     There  was  Lorn  a,  my  love 

and  life,  bound  by  her  duty  to  that  old  vil nay,  I  mean 

to  her  good  grandfather,  who  could  now  do  little  mischief, 
and  therefore  deserved  all  praise  —  Lorna  bound,  at  any  rate, 
by  her  womanly  feelings,  if  not  by  sense  of  duty,  to  remain 
in  the  thick  of  danger,  with  nobody  to  protect  her,  but  every 
body  to  covet  her,  for  beauty  and  position.  Here  was  all  the 
country  roused  with  violent  excitement,  at  the  chance  of  snap- 
ping at  the  Doones;  and  not  only  getting  tit  for  tat;  but 
every  young  man  promising  his  sweetheart  a  gold  chain,  and 
his  mother  at  least  a  shilling.  And  here  was  our  own  mow- 
yard,  better  filled  than  we  could  remember,  and  perhaps  every 
sheaf  in  it  destined  to  be  burned  or  stolen,  before  we  had  fin- 
ished the  bread  we  had  baked. 

Among  all  these  troubles,  there  was,  however,  or  seemed  to 
be,  one  comfort.  Tom  Faggus  returned  from  London  very 
proudly  and  very  happily,  with  a  royal  pardon  in  black  and 
white,  which  every  body  admired  the  more,  because  no  one 
could  read  a. word  of  it.  The  Squire  himself  acknowledged 
cheerfully  that  he  could  sooner  take  fifty  purses  than  read  a 
single  line  of  it.  Some  people  indeed  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  the  parchment  was  made  from  a  sheep  Tom  had  stolen, 
and  that  was  why  it  prevaricated  so,  in  giving  him  a  charac- 
ter. But  I,  knowing  something,  by  this  time,  of  lawyers,  was 
able  to  contradict  them ;  affirming  that  the  wolf  had  more  than 
the  sheep  to  do  with  this  matter. 

For,  according  to  our  old  saying,  the  three  learned  profes- 
sions live  by  roguery  on  the  three  parts  of  a  man.  The 
doctor  mauls  our  bodies ;  the  parson  starves  our  souls ;  but  the 
lawyer  must  be  the  adroitest  knave,  for  he  has  to  ensnare  our 
minds.  Therefore  he  takes  a  careful  delight  in  covering  his 
traps  and  engines  with  a  spread  of  dead-leaf  words,  whereof 
liimself  knows  little  more  than  half  the  way  to  spell  them. 

But  now  Tom  Faggus,  although  having  wit  to  gallop  away 
on  his  strawberry  mare,  with  the  speed  of  terror,  from  law- 
yers (having  paid  them  with  money  too  honest  to  stop),  yet 


A    TBOUBLEB   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      275 

fell  into  a  reckless  adventure,  ere  ever  lie  came  home,  from 
which  any  lawyer  would  have  saved  him,  although  he  ought 
to  have  needed  none  beyond  common  thought  for  dear  Ajmie. 
Now  I  am,  and  ever  have  been,  so  vexed  about  this  story  that 
I  cannot  tell  it  pleasantly  (as  I  try  to  write  in  general)  in  my 
own  words  and  manner.  Therefore  I  will  let  John  Fry  (whom 
I  have  robbed  of  another  story,  to  which  he  was  more  entitled, 
and  whom  I  have  robbed  of  man}-  speeches  (which  he  thought 
very  excellent),  lest  I  should  grieve  any  one  with  his  lack  of 
education,  —  the  last  lack-  he  ever  felt,  by-the-by),  now  with 
your  good  leave,  I  will  allow  poor  John  to  tell  this  tale,  in 
his  own  words  and  style ;  which  he  has  a  perfect  right  to  do, 
having  been  the  first  to  tell  us.  For  Squire  Faggus  kept  it 
close;  not  trusting  even  Annie  with  it  (or  at  least  she  said  so)  ; 
because  no  man  knows  much  of  his  sweetheart's  tongue,  nntil 
she  has  borne  him  a  child  or  two. 

Only  before  John  begins  his  story,  this  I  would  say,  in  duty 
to  him,  and  in  common  honesty,  — that  I  dare  not  write  down 
some  few  of  his  words,  because  they  are  not  convenient,  for 
dialect  or  other  causes;  and  that  I  cannot  find  any  way  of 
spelling  many  of  the  words  which  I  do  repeat,  so  that  people, 
not  born  on  Exnioor,  may  know  how  he  pronounced  them; 
even  if  they  could  bring  their  lips,  and  their  legs,  to  the  proper 
attitude.  And  in  this  I  speak  advisedly;  having  observed 
some  thousand  times,  that  the  manner  a  man  has  of  spreading 
his  legs,  and  bending  his  knees,  or  stiffening,  and  even  the  way 
he  will  set  his  heel,  make  all  the  difference  in  his  tone,  and 
time  of  casting  his  voice  aright,  and  power  of  coming  home  to 
you. 

We  always  liked  John's  stories,  not  for  any  wit  in  them; 
but  because  we  laughed  at  the  man,  rather  than  the  matter. 
The  way  he  held  his  head  was  enough,  with  his  chin  fixed 
hard  like  a  certainty  (especially  during  his  biggest  lie)  not  a 
sign  of  a  smile  in  his  lips  or  nose,  but  a  power  of  not  laugh- 
ing; and  his  eyes  not  turning  to  any  body,  unless  somebody 
had  too  much  of  it  (as  young  girls  always  do)  and  went  over 
the  brink  of  laughter.  Thereupon  it  was  good  to  see  John 
Fry ;  how  he  looked  gravely  first  at  the  laugher,  as  much  as 
to  ask,  "What  is  it  noAv?"  then  if  the  fool  went  laughing 
more,  as  he  or  she  was  sure  to  do  upon  that  dry  inquiry,  John 
would  look  again,  to  be  sure  of  it,  and  then  at  somebody  else 
to  learn  whether  the  laugh  had  company ;  then  if  he  got  an- 
other grin,  all  his  mirth  came  out  in  glory,  Avith  a  sudden  break; 
and  he  Aviped  his  li]^>s,  and  Avas  grave  again. 


276  LORNA    BOONE. 

Now  John,  being  too  much  encouraged  by  the  girls  (of  which 
I  could  never  break  them),  came  into  the  house  that  December 
evening,  with  every  inch  of  him  full  of  a  tale.  Annie  saw  it, 
and  Lizzie  of  course ;  and  even  I,  in  the  gloom  of  great  evils, 
perceived  that  John  w^as  a  loaded  gun;  but  I  did  not  care  to 
explode  him.  Now  nothing  primed  him  so  hotly  as  this:  if 
you  wanted  to  hear  all  John  Fry  had  heard,  the  surest  of  all 
sure  ways  to  it  was,  to  pretend  not  to  care  for  a  word  of  it. 

"I  wor  over  to  Exeford  in  the  marnin,"  John  began  from 
the  chimney-corner,  looking  straight  at  Annie;  "for  to  zee  a 
little  calve,  Jan,  as  us  cuddn't  get  thee  to  lave  houze  about. 
Meesus  have  got  a  quare  vancy  vor  un,  from  wutt  her  have 
heer'd  of  the  brade.  Now  zit  quite,  wull  e'  Miss  Luzzie,  or 
a  'wunt  goo  on  no  vurder.  Vaine  little  tayl  I'll  tull'  ee,  if 
so  be  thee  zits  quite.  Wull,  as  I  coom  down  the  hill,  I  zeed 
a  saight  of  volks  astapping  of  the  ro-udwai.  Arl  on  'em  wi' 
girt  goons,  or  two  men  out  of  dree  wi'  em.  Eackon  there  wor 
dree  score  on  'em,  tak  smarl  and  beg  togather  laike;  latt  aloun 
the  women  and  chillers;  zum  on  'em  wi'  matches  blowing, 
t'others  wi'  flint-lacks.  'Wutt  be  up  now?'  I  says  to  Bill 
Blacksmith,  as  had  knowledge  of  me:  '  be  the  King  acoomin? 
If  her  be,  do  'ee  want  to  shutt'un?" 

"'  Thee  hot  knaw!  '  says  Bill  Blacksmith,  just  tlie  zame  as 
I  be  a  tullin  of  it :  '  whai,  man,  us  expex  Tarn  Faggus,  and 
zum  on  us  manes  to  shutt  'un.' 

"'Shutt  'un  wi'out  a  warrant!'  says  I:  'sure  'ee  knaws 
better  nor  thic.  Bill!  A  man  mayn't  shutt  to  another  man, 
wi'out  have  a  warrant,  Bill.  Warship  zed  so,  last  taime  I 
zeed  un,  and  nothing  to  the  contrairy." 

'"Haw,  haw!  Never  front  about  that,'  saith  Bill,  zame  as  I 
be  tullin  you :  '  us  has  warrants  and  warships  enow,  dree  or 
vour  on  'em.     And  more  nor  a  dizzen  warranties ;  fro'ut  I  know 

to  contrairy.     Shutt  'un,  us  manes ;  and  shutt  'un,  us  will ' 

Whai,  Miss  Annie,  good  Lord,  whuttiver  maks  'ee  stear  so?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  John,"  our  Annie  answered;  "only  the 
horrible  ferocity  of  that  miserable  blacksmith." 

"That  be  nayther  here  nor  there,"  John  continued,  with 
some  wrath  at  his  own  interruption:  "Blacksmith  knawed 
whutt  the  Squire  had  been ;  and  veared  to  lose  his  own  custom, 
if  Squire  tuk  to  shooin'  again.  Shutt  any  man  I  would  my- 
zell  as  intervared  wi'  my  trade  laike.  '  Lucky  for  thee, '  said 
Bill  Blacksmith,  '  as  thee  bee'st  so  shart  and  fat,  Jan.  Dree 
on  us  wor  a  gooin'  to  shutt  'ee,  till  us  zeed  how  fat  thee  waz, 
Jan.' 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      277 

"  '  Lor  now,  Bill! '  I  answered  'un,  wi'  a  girt  cold  swat  upon 
me:  'sliutt  me,  Bill;  and  my  own  waife  niver  drame  of  it! '  " 

Here  John  Fry  looked  round  the  kitchen;  for  he  had  never 
said  anything  of  the  kind,  I  doubt;  but  now  made  it  part  of 
his  discourse,  from  thinking  that  Mistress  Fry  was  come,  as 
she  generally  did,  to  fetch  him. 

"  Wull  done  then,  Jan  Vry,"  said  the  woman,  who  had 
entered  quietly,  but  was  only  our  old  Molly.  "  Wutt  hand- 
some manners  thee  has  gat,  Jan,  to  spake  so  well  of  thy  waife 
laike ;  after  arl  the  laife  she  lades  thee !  " 

'•  Putt  thee  pot  on  the  fire,  old  'ooman,  and  bile  thee  own 
bakkon,"  John  answered  her,  very  sharply :  "nobody  no  raight 
to  meddle  wi'  a  man's  bad  'ooman  but  himzell.  Wull,  here 
was  all  these  here  men  awaitin',  zum  wi'  harses,  zum  wi'out; 
the  common  volk  wi'  long  girt  guns,  and  the  quarlity  wi'  girt 
broad-swords.  Who  wor  there?  Whay  latt  me  zee.  There 
wor  Squaire  Maunder,"  here  John  assumed  his  full  historical 
key,  "him  jvi'  the  pot  to  his  vittle-place ;  and  Sir  Eichard 
BleAvitt  shaking  over  the  zaddle,  and  Squaire  Sandford  of 
Lee,  him  wi'  the  long  nose  and  one  eye,  and  Sir  Gronus  Batch- 
ildor  over  to  Ninehead  Court,  and  ever  so  many  more  on  'em, 
tulling  up  how  they  was  arl  gooin'  to  be  promoted,  for  kitch  - 
ing  of  Tom  Faggus. 

"'  Hope  to  God,'  says  I  to  myzell,  '  poor  Tom  wun't  coom 
here  to-day :  arl  up  with  her,  if  'a  doeth :  and  who  be  there 
to  suckzacle  'un? '  Mark  me  now,  all  these  charps  was  good 
to  shutt  'un,  as  her  coom  crass  the  watter;  the  watter  be  Avaide 
enow  there  and  stony,  but  no  deeper  than  my  knee-place. 

'"  Thee  cas'n  goo  no  vurder, '  Bill  Blacksmith  saith  to  me: 
'nawbody  'lowed  to  crass  the  vord,  until  such  time  as  Faggus 
coom;  plaise  God  we  may  mak  sure  of  'un.' 

'"  Amen,  zo  be  it,'  says  I;  'God  knowth  I  be  never  in  any 
hurry,  and  would  zooiier  stop  nor  goo  on,  most  taimes.' 

"  Wi'  that  I  pulled  my  vittles  out,  and  zat  a  horse-barck, 
atin'  of  'em,  and  oncommon  good  they  was.  '  Won't  us  have 
'un  this  taime  just,'  saith  Tim  Potter,  as  keepeth  the  bull 
there;  'and  yet  I  be  zorry  for  'un.  But  a  man  must  kape  the 
law,  her  must ;  zo  be  her  can  only  larn  it.  And  now  poor  Tom 
will  swing  as  high  as  the  tops  of  they  girt  hashes  there.' 

"'Just  thee  kitch  'un  virst,'  says  I;  'maisure  rope,  wi'  the 
body  to  maisure  by.' 

"'Hurrah!  here  be  another  now,'  saith  Bill  Blacksmith, 
grinning;  'another  coom  to  help  us.  What  a  grave  gentle- 
man !     A  warship  of  the  pace,  at  laste ! ' 


278  LORN  A   BOONE. 

"  For  a  gentleman,  on  a  cue-ball  horse,  was  coming  slowly 
clown  the  hill  on  t'other  zide  of  watter,  looking  at  us  in  a 
friendly  way,  and  with  a  long  papper  standing  forth  the  lin- 
ing of  his  coat  laike.  Horse  stapped  to  drink  in  the  watter, 
and  gentleman  spak  to  'un  kindly,  and  then  they  coom  raighl: 
on  to  ussen,  and  the  gentleman's  face  wor  so  long  and  so  grave, 
us  veared  'a  wor  gooin'  to  prache  to  us. 

"'Coort  o'  King's  Bench,'  saith  one  man;  ^Checker  and 
Plays,'  saith  another;  '  Spishal  Commission,  I  doubt,'  saith 
Bill  Blacksmith;  'backed  by  the  Mayor  of  Taunton.' 

"  'Any  Justice  of  the  King's  Peace,  good  people,  to  be  found 
near  here?  '  said  the  gentleman,  lifting  his  hat  to  us,  and  very 
gracious  in  his  manner. 

"'  Your  honor,'  saith  Bill,  with  his  hat  off  his  head;  '  there 
be  sax  or  zeven  warships  here;  arl  on  'em  very  wise  'uns. 
Squaire  Maunder  there  be  the  zinnyer. ' 

"  So  the  gentleman  rode  ujj  to  Squire  Maunder,  and  raised 
his  cocked  hat  in  a  manner  that  took  the  Squire  out  of  counte- 
nance, for  he  could  not  do  the  like  of  it. 

" '  Sir,'  said  he,  'good  and  worshipful  sir,  I  am  here  to  claim 
your  good  advice  and  valor;  for  purposes  of  justice.  I  hold 
His  Majesty's  commission,  to  make  to  cease  a  notorious  rogue, 
whose  name  is  Thomas  Faggus.'  With  that  he  offered  his 
commission ;  but  Squire  Maunder  told  the  truth,  that  he  could 
not  rade  even  words  in  print,  much  less  written  karakters.^ 
Then  the  other  magistrates  rode  up,  and  put  their  heads 
together,  how  to  meet  the  London  gentleman  without  loss  of 
importance.  There  wor  one  of  'em  as  could  rade  purty  vair, 
and  her  made  out  King's  mark  upon  it:  and  he  bowed  upon 
his  horse  to  the  gentleman,  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart 
and  said,  '  Worshipful  sir,  we,  as  has  the  honor  of  His  Gra- 
cious Majesty's  commission,  are  entirely  at  your  service,  and 
crave  instructions  from  you.' 

"  Then  a  waving  of  hats  began,  and  a  bowing,  and  making 
of  legs  to  wan  anather,  sich  as  nay ver  wor  zeed  afore ;  but  none 
of  'em  arl,  for  air  and  brading,  cud  coom  anaigh  the  gentle- 
man with  the  long  grave  face. 

1  Lest  John  Fry  seem  to  under-rate  the  erudition  of  Devonshire  magis- 
trates, I  venture  to  offer  copy  of  a  letter  from  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  to  his 
bookseller,  circa  1810  a.d.,  now  in  my  possession  :  — 
"Sur. 

"  plez  to  zen  me  the  aks  relattino-  to  A-gnstns-paksy  ^ 

—  Ed.  of  L.  D. 
-  [Emphasized  thus  in  original.] 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      279 

" '  Your  warships  have  posted  the  men  right  well, '  saitli  he 
with  anather  bow  all  round;  'surely  that  big  rogue  will  have 
no  chance  left  among  so  many  valiant  musketeers.  Ha!  what 
see  I  there,  my  friend?  Rust  in  the  pan  of  your  gun!  That 
gun  w^ould  never  go  off,  sure  as  I  am  the  King's  Commis- 
sioner. And  I  see  another  just  as  bad;  and  lo,  there  the 
third!  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  I  have  been  so  used  to  His 
Majesty's  Ordnance-yards.  But  I  fear  that  bold  rogue  would 
ride  through  all  of  you,  and  laugh  at  your  worships'  beards, 
by  George.' 

"'But  what  shall  us  do?'  Squire  Maunder  axed;  'I  vear 
there  be  no  oil  here.' 

"'Discharge  your  pieces,  gentlemen,  and  let  the  men  do  the 
same ;  or  at  least  let  us  try  to  discharge  them,  and  load  again 
with  fresh  powder.  It  is  the  fog  of  the  morning  hath  spoiled 
the  priming.  That  rogue  is  not  in  sight  yet :  but  God  knows 
we  must  not  be  asleep  with  him,  or  what  will  His  Majesty 
say  to  me,  if  we  let  him  slip  once  more?  ' 

"'  Excellent,  wondrous  well  said,  good  sir,'  Squire  Maunder 
answered  him;  '  I  never  should  have  thought  of  that  now. 
Bill  Blacksmith,  tell  all  the  men  to  be  ready  to  shoot  up  into 
the  air,  directly  1  give  the  word.  Kow,  are  you  ready  there, 
Bill?' 

"'All  ready,  your  worship,'  saith  Bill,  saluting  like  a 
soldier. 

" '  Then,  one,  two,  dree,  and  shutt ! '  cries  Squire  Maunder, 
standing  up  in  the  irons  of  his  stirrups. 

"  Thereupon  they  all  blazed  out,  and  the  noise  of  it  went  all 
round  the  hills;  with  a  girt  thick  cloud  arising,  and  all  the 
air  smelling  of  powder.  Before  the  cloud  was  gone  so  much 
as  ten  yards  on  the  wind,  the  gentleman  on  the  cue-ball  horse 
shuts  up  his  face  like  a  pair  of  aiut-cracks,  as  wide  as  it  was 
long  before,  and  out  he  pulls  two  girt  pistols  longside  of  zad- 
dle,  and  clap'th  one  to  Squire  Maunder's  head,  and  t'other  to 
Sir  Richard  Blewitt's. 

" '  Hand  forth  your  money  and  all  your  warrants, '  he  saith 
like  a  clap'  of  thunder;  'gentlemen,  have  you  now  the  wit  to 
apprehend  Tom  Faggus? ' 

"  Squire  Maunder  swore  so  that  he  ought  to  be  lined ;  but  he 
pulled  out  his  purse  none  the  slower  for  that,  and  so  did  Sir 
Richard  Blewitt. 

"'  First  man  I  see  go  to  load  a  gun,  I'll  gi'e  'un  the  bullet 
to  do  it  with,'  said  Tom;  for  you  see  it  was  him  and  no  other, 
looking  quietly  round  upon  all  of  them.     Then  he  robbed  all 


280  LORNA   DOONE. 

the  rest  of  their  warships,  as  pleasant  as  might  be;  and  he 
saith,  '  Now  gentlemen,  do  your  duty :  serve  your  warrants 
afore  you  imprison  me : '  with  that  he  made  them  give  up  all 
the  warrants,  and  he  stuck  them  in  the  band  of  his  hat,  and 
then  he  made  a  bow  with  it. 

"'Good  morning  to  your  warships  now,  and  a  merry  Christ- 
mas all  of  you!  And  the  merrier  both  for  rich  and  poor, 
when  gentlemen  see  their  almsgiving.  Lest  you  deny  your- 
selves the  pleasure,  I  will  aid  your  warships.  And  to  save 
you  the  trouble  of  following  me,  when  your  guns  be  loaded, — 
this  is  my  strawberry  mare,  gentlemen,  only  with  a  little 
cream  on  her.  Gentlemen  all,  in  the  name  of  the  King,  I 
thank  you. ' 

"All  this  while  he  was  casting  their  money  among  the  poor 
folk  by  the  handful;  and  then  he  spak  kaindly  to  the  red 
mare,  and  wor  over  the  back  of  the  hill  in  two  zeconds,  and 
the  best  part  of  two  maile  away,  I  reckon,  afore  ever  a  gun  wor 
loaded."! 


CHAPTEE  XL. 

TWO    FOOLS    TOGETHER. 

That  story  of  John  Fry's,  instead  of  causing  any  amuse- 
ment, gave  us  great  disquietude ;  not  only  because  it  showed 
that  Tom  Faggus  could  not  resist  sudden  temptation  and  the 
delight  of  wildness,  but  also  that  we  greatly  feared  lest  the 
King's  pardon  might  be  annulled,  and  all  his  kindness  can- 
celled, by  a  reckless  deed  of  that  sort.  It  was  true  (as  Annie 
insisted  continually,  even  with  tears,  to  wear  in  her  argu- 
ments) that  Tom  had  not  brought  away  any  thing,  except  the 
warrants,  which  were  of  no  use  at  all,  after  receipt  of  the  par- 
don; neither  had  he  used  any  violence,  except  just  to  frighten 
people ;  but  could  it  be  established,  even  towards  Christmas- 
time, that  Tom  had  a  right  to  give  alms,  right  and  left,  out  of 
other  people's  money? 

Dear  Annie  appeared  to  believe  that  it  could;  saying  that  if 
the  rich  continually  chose  to  forget  the  poor,  a  man  who 
forced  them  to  remember,  and  so  to  do  good  to  themselves  and 
to  others,  was  a  public  benefactor,  and  entitled  to  every  bless- 

1  The  truth  of  this  story  is  well  established  by  first-rate  tradition. 


TWO    FOOLS    TOGETHER.  281 

ing.  But  I  knew,  and  so  Lizzie  knew  —  John  Fry  being  now 
out  of  hearing  —  that  this  was  not  sound  argument.  For,  if 
it  came  to  that,  any  man  might  take  the  King  by  the  throat, 
and  make  him  cast  away  among  the  poor  the  money  which  he 
wanted  sadly  for  Her  Grace  the  Duchess,  and  the  beautiful 
Countess,  of  this,  and  of  that.  Lizzie,  of  course,  knew  noth- 
ing about  His  Majesty's  diversions,  which  were  not  fit  for  a 
young  maid's  thoughts;  but  I  now  put  the  form  of  the  argu- 
ment as  it  occurred  to  me. 

Therefore  I  said,  once  for  all  (and  both  my  sisters  always 
listened  when  I  used  the  deep  voice  from  my  chest)  :  — 

''Tom  Faggus  hath  done  wrong  herein;  wrong  to  himself, 
and  to  our  Annie.  All  he  need  have  done  was  to  show  his 
pardon,  and  the  magistrates  would  have  rejoiced  with  him. 
He  might  have  led  a  most  godly  life,  and  have  been  respected 
by  every  body;  and  knowing  how  brave  Tom  is,  I  thought 
that  he  would  have  done  as  much.  Now  if  I  were  in  love 
with  a  maid  "  —  I  put  it  thus  for  the  sake  of  poor  Lizzie  — 
"never  would  I  so  imperil  my  life,  and  her  fortune  in  life 
along  with  me,  for  the  sake  of  a  poor  diversion.  A  man's 
first  duty  is  to  the  women,  who  are  forced  to  hang  upon 
him " 

"Oh,  John,  not  that  horrible  word,"  cried  Annie,  to  my 
great  surprise,  and  serious  interruption :  "  oh  John,  any  word 
but  that !  "     And  she  burst  forth  crying  terribly. 

"What  word,  Lizzie?  What  does  the  wench  mean?"  I 
asked  in  the  saddest  vexation ;  seeing  no  good  to  ask  Annie  at 
all,  for  she  carried  on  most  dreadfully. 

"Don't  you  know,  you  stupid  lout?"  said  Lizzie,  complet- 
ing my  wonderment,  by  the  scorn  of  her  quicker  intelligence : 
"  if  you  don't  know,  axe  about?  " 

And  with  that,  I  was  forced  to  be  content;  for  Lizzie  took 
Annie  in  such  a  manner  (on  purpose  to  vex  me,  as  I  could  see) 
with  her  head  drooping  down,  and  her  hair  coming  over,  and 
tears  and  sobs  rising  and  falling,  to  boot,  without  either  order 
or  reason,  that  seeing  no  good  for  a  man  to  do  (since  neither 
of  them  was  Lorna),  I  even  went  out  into  the  courtyard,  and 
smoked  a  pipe,  and  wondered  what  on  earth  is  the  meaning  of 
women. 

Now  in  this  I  was  wrong  and  unreasonable  (as  all  women 
will  acknowledge) ;  but  sometimes  a  man  is  so  put  out,  by  the 
way  they  take  on  about  nothing,  that  he  really  cannot  help 
thinking,  for  at  least  a  minute,  that  women  are  a  mistake  for 
ever,  and  hence  are  for  ever  mistaken.     Nevertheless  I  could 


282  LORNA   DooyE. 

not  see  that  any  of  these  great  thoughts  and  ideas  applied  at 
all  to  my  Lorna;  but  that  she  was  a  different  being;  not  woman 
enough  to  do  any  thing  bad,  yet  enough  of  a  woman  for  man 
to  adore. 

And  now  a  thing  came  to  pass  which  tested  my  adoration 
pretty  sharply,  inasmuch  as  I  would  far  liefer  have  faced 
Carver  Doone  and  his  father,  nay  even  the  roaring  lion  him- 
self, with  his  hoofs  and  flaming  nostrils,  than  have  met,  in 
cold  blood,  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  the  founder  of  all  the  colony, 
and  the  fear  of  the  very  fiercest. 

But  that  I  was  forced  to  do  at  this  time,  and  in  the  manner 
following.  When  I  went  up  one  morning  to  look  for  my  seven 
rooks'  nests,  behold  there  were  but  six  to  be  seen;  for  the 
topmost  of  them  all  was  gone,  and  the  most  conspicuous.  1 
looked,  and  looked,  and  rubbed  my  eyes,  and  turned  to  try  them 
by  other  sights;  and  then  I  looked  again;  yes,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  it;  the  signal  was  made  for  me  to  come,  be- 
cause my  love  was  in  danger.  For  me  to  enter  the  valley  now, 
during  the  broad  daylight,  could  have  brought  no  comfort,  but 
only  harm  to  the  maiden,  and  certain  death  to  myself.  Yet 
it  was  more  than  I  could  do  to  keep  altogether  at  distance ; 
therefore  I  ran  to  the  nearest  place  where  I  could  remain 
unseen,  and  watched  the  glen  from  the  wooded  height,  for 
hours  and  hours,   impatiently. 

However  no  impatience  of  mine  made  any  difference  in  the 
scene  upon  which  I  was  gazing.  In  the  part  of  the  valley 
which  I  could  see  there  was  nothing  moving,  except  the  water, 
and  a  few  stolen  cows,  going  sadly  along,  as  if  knowing  that 
they  had  no  honest  right  there.  It  sank  very  heavily  into  my 
heart,  with  all  the  beds  of  dead  leaves  around  it,  and  there 
was  nothing  I  cared  to  do,  except  blow  on  my  fingers,  and 
long  for  more  wit. 

For  a  frost  was  beginning,  which  made  a  great  difference  to 
Lorna  and  to  myself,  I  trow ;  as  well  as  to  all  the  five  million 
people  who  dwell  in  this  island  of  England;  such  a  frost  as 
never  I  saw  before,^  neither  hope  ever  to  see  again;  a  time 
Avhen  it  was  impossible  to  milk  a  cow  for  icicles,  or  for  a  man 
to  shave  some  of  his  beard  (as  I  liked  to  do  for  Lorna' s  sake, 
because  she  was  so  smooth)  without  blunting  his  razor  on  hard 

1  If  John  Ridd  lived  until  the  year  1740  (as  so  strong  a  man  was  bound 
to  do),  he  must  have  seen  almost  a  harder  frost ;  and  perhaps  it  put  an  end 
to  him  ;  for  then  he  would  be  some  fourscore  years  old.  But  tradition 
makes  him  "keep  yatt,"  as  he  says,  up  to  fivescore  years.  —  Ed.  L.  D. 


TWO   FOOLS    TOGETHER.  283 

gray  ice.  No  man  could  "  keep  yatt "  (as  we  say),  even  though 
he  abandoned  his  work  altogether,  and  thumped  himself,  all 
on  the  chest  and  the  front,  till  his  frozen  hands  would  have 
been  bleeding  except  for  the  cold  that  kept  still  all  his  veins. 

However,  at  present  there  was  no  frost,  although  for  a  fort- 
night threatening;  and  I  was  too  young  to  know  the  meaning 
of  the  way  the  dead  leaves  hung,  and  the  worm-casts  prickling 
like  women's  combs,  and  the  leaden  tone  upon  every  thing, 
and  the  dead  weight  of  the  sky.  Will  Watcombe,  the  old 
man  at  Lynmouth,  who  had  been  half  over  the  world  almost, 
and  who  talked  so  much  of  the  Gulf -stream,  had  (as  I  after- 
wards called  to  mind)  foretold  a  very  bitter  winter  this  year. 
I  kit  no  one  would  listen  to  him,  because  there  were  not  so 
many  hips  and  haws  as  usual;  whereas  we  have  all  learned 
from  our  grandfathers,  that  Providence  never  sends  very  hard 
winters,  without  having  furnished  a  large  supply  of  berries 
for  the  birds  to  feed  upon. 

It  was  lucky  for  me,  while  I  waited  here,  that  our  very  best 
sheep-dog,  old  Watch,  had  chosen  to  accompany  me  that  day. 
For  otherwise  I  must  have  had  no  dinner,  being  unpersuaded, 
even  by  that,  to  quit  my  survey  of  the  valley.  However,  by 
aid  of  poor  Watch,  I  contrived  to  obtain  a  supply  of  food;  for 
I  sent  him  home  with  a  note  to  Annie  fastened  upon  his  chest; 
and  in  less  than  an  hour  back  he  came,  proud  enough  to  wag 
his  tail  off,  with  his  tongue  hanging  out  from  the  speed  of  his 
journey,  and  a  large  lump  of  bread  and  of  bacon  fastened  in 
a  napkin  around  his  neck.  I  had  not  told  my  sister,  of  course, 
what  was  toward;  for  why  should  I  make  her  anxious? 

When  it  grew  towards  dark,  I  was  just  beginning  to  prepare 
for  my  circuit  around  the  hills ;  but  suddenlj^  Watch  gave  a 
long  low  growl;  I  kept  myself  close  as  possible,  and  ordered 
the  dog  to  be  silent,  and  presently  saw  a  short  figure  approach- 
ing from  a  thickly -wooded  hollow  on  the  left  side  of  my  hiding- 
place.  It  was  the  same  figure  I  had  seen  once  before  in  the 
moonlight,  at  Plover's  Barrows;  and  proved,  to  my  great  de- 
light, to  be  the  little  maid  Gwenny  Carfax.  She  started  a 
moment,  at  seeing  me,  but  more  with  surprise  than  fear;  and 
then  she  laid  both  her  hands  upon  mine,  as  if  she  had  known 
me  for  twenty  years. 

"Young  man,"  she  said,  "you  must  come  with  me.  I  was 
gwain'  all  the  way  to  fetch  thee.  Old  man  be  dying;  and  her 
can't  die,  or  at  least  her  won't,  without  first  considering  thee." 

"Considering  me!"  I  cried:  "what  can  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
want  with  considering  me?     Has  Mistress  Lorna  told  him?" 


284  LORJ}^A  DOONE. 

'•  All  concerning  thee,  and  thy  doings;  when  she  knowed  old 
man  were  so  near  his  end.  That  vexed  he  was  about  thy  low 
blood,  a'  thought  her  would  come  to  life  again,  on  purpose 
for  to  bate  'ee.  But  after  all,  there  can't  be  scarcely  such  bad 
luck  as  that.  Now,  if  her  strook  thee,  thou  must  take  it; 
there  be  no  denaying  of  'un.  Fire  I  have  seen  afore,  hot  and 
red,  and  raging;  but  I  never  seen  cold  fire  afore,  and  it 
maketh  me  burn  and  shiver." 

And  in  truth,  it  made  me  both  burn  and  shiver,  to  know 
that  I  must  either  go  straight  to  the  presence  of  Sir  Ensor 
Doone,  or  give  up  Lorna,  once  for  all,  and  rightly  be  despised 
by  her.  For  the  first  time  of  my  life,  I  thought  that  she  had 
not  acted  fairly.  Why  not  leave  the  old  man  in  peace,  with- 
out vexing  him  about  my  affairs?  But  presently  I  saw  again 
that  in  this  matter  she  was  right;  that  she  could  not  receive 
the  old  man's  blessing  (supposing  that  he  had  one  to  give, 
which  even  a  worse  man  might  believe)  while  she  deceived 
him  about  herself,  and  the  life  she  had  undertaken. 

Therefore,  with  great  misgiving  of  myself,  but  no  ill  thought 
of  my  darling,  I  sent  Watch  home,  and  followed  Gwenny; 
who  led  me  along  very  rapidly,  with  her  short  broad  form 
gliding  down  the  hollow,  from  which  she  had  first  appeared. 
Here  at  the  bottom,  she  entered  a  thicket  of  gray  ash  stubs 
and  black  holly,  with  rocks  around  it  gnarled  with  roots,  and 
hung  with  masks  of  ivy.  Soon  in  a  dark  and  lonely  corner, 
with  a  pixie  ring  before  it,  she  came  to  a  narrow  door,  very 
brown  and  solid,  looking  like  a  trunk  of  wood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. This  she  opened,  without  a  key,  by  stooping  down  and 
pressing  it,  where  the  threshold  met  the  jamb;  and  then  she 
ran  in  very  nimbly,  but  I  was  forced  to  be  bent  in  two,  and 
even  so  without  comfort.  The  passage  was  close  and  difficult, 
and  as  dark  as  any  black  pitch;  but  it  was  not  long  (be  it  as 
it  might),  and  in  that  there  was  some  comfort.  We  came  out 
soon  at  the  other  end,  and  were  at  the  top  of  Doone  valley. 
In  the  chilly  dusk  air  it  looked  most  untempting,  especially 
during  that  state  of  mind  under  which  I  was  laboring.  As 
we  crossed  towards  the  Captain's  house,  we  met  a  couple  of 
great  Doones  lounging  by  the  water-side.  Gwenny  said  some- 
thing to  them,  and  although  they  stared  very  hard  at  me,  they 
let  me  pass  without  hindrance.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that, 
when  the  little  maid  opened  Sir  Ensor's  door,  my  heart 
thumped,  quite  as  much  with  terror  as  with  hope  of  Lorna' s 
presence. 

But  in  a  moment  the  fear  was  gone,  for  Lorna  was  trembling 


TWO   FOOLS    TOGETHER.  285 

in  my  arms,  and  my  courage  rose  to  comfort  her.  The  darling 
feared,  beyond  all  things  else,  lest  I  should  be  offended  with 
her,  for  what  she  had  said  to  her  grandfather,  and  for  drag- 
ging me  into  his  presence;  but  I  told  her  almost  a  falsehood 
(the  lirst,  and  the  last,  that  ever  I  did  tell  her),  to  wit,  that  I 
cared  not  that  much  —  and  showed  her  the  tip  of  my  thumb 
as  I  said  it  —  for  old  Sir  Ensor,  and  all  his  wrath,  so  long  as 
I  had  his  granddaughter's  love. 

Now  I  tried  to  think  this  as  I  said  it,  so  as  to  save  it  from 
being  a  lie;  but  somehow  or  other  it  did  not  answer,  and  I 
was  vexed  with  myself  both  ways.  But  Lorna  took  me  by  the 
hand  as  bravely  as  she  could,  and  led  me  into  a  little  passage, 
Avhere  I  could  hear  the  river  moaning  and  the  branches 
rustling. 

Here  I  passed  as  long  a  minute  as  fear  ever  cheated  time 
of,  saying  to  myself  continually  that  there  was  nothing  to  be 
frightened  at,  yet  growing  more  and  more  afraid  by  reason  of 
so  reasoning.  At  last  my  Lorna  came  back  very  pale,  as  I  saw 
by  the  candle  she  carried,  and  whispered,  "  Now  be  patient, 
dearest.  Never  mind  what  he  says  to  you;  neither  attempt 
to  answer  him.  Look  at  him  gently  and  steadfastly,  and,  if 
you  can,  with  some  show  of  reverence;  but  above  all  things, 
no  compassion;  it  drives  him  almost  mad.  Now  come;  walk 
very  quietly." 

She  led  me  into  a  cold  dark  room,  rough  and  very  gloomy, 
although  with  two  candles  burning.  I  took  little  heed  of  the 
things  in  it,  though  I  marked  that  the  window  was  open. 
That  which  I  heeded  was  an  old  man,  very  stern  and  comely, 
with  death  upon  his  countenance ;  yet  not  lying  in  his  bed, 
but  set  upright  in  a  chair,  with  a  loose  red  cloak  thrown  over 
him.  Upon  this  his  white  hair  fell,  and  his  pale  fingers  lay 
in  a  ghastly  fashion,  without  a  sign  of  life  or  movement,  or  of 
the  i^ower  that  kept  him  up;  all  rigid,  calm,  and  relentless. 
Only  in  his  great  black  eyes,  fixed  upon  me  solemnly,  all  the 
power  of  his  body  dwelt,  all  the  life  of  his  soul  Avas  burning. 

I  could  not  look  at  him  very  nicely,  being  afeared  of  the 
death  in  his  face,  and  most  afeared  to  show  it.  And  to  tell 
the  truth,  my  poor  blue  eyes  fell  away  from  the  blackness  of 
his,  as  if  it  had  been  my  coffin-plate.  Therefore  I  made  a  low 
obeisance,  and  tried  not  to  shiver.  Only  I  groaned  that  Lorna 
thought  it  good  manners  to  leave  us  two  together. 

"Ah,"  said  the  old  man,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  come  from 
a  cavern  of  skeletons;  "are  you  that  great  John  Eidd?  " 

"John  Eidd  is  my  name,  your  honor,"  was  all  that  I  could 
answer;  "and  I  hope  your  worship  is  better," 


286  LOTtNA   DOONE. 

"  Child,  have  you  sense  enough  to  know  wnat  you  have  been 
doing?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  right  well,"  I  answered,  "that  I  have  set  mine 
eyes  far  above  my  rank." 

"Are  you  ignorant  that  Lorna  Doone  is  born  of  the  oldest 
families  remaining  in  North  Europe?" 

"I  was  ignorant  of  that,  your  worship;  yet  I  knew  of  her 
high  descent  from  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy." 

The  old  man's  eyes,  like  hre,  probed  me  whether  I  was  jest- 
ing; then  perceiving  how  grave  I  was,  and  thinking  that  I 
could  not  laugh  (as  many  people  suppose  of  me),  he  took  on 
himself  to  make  good  the  deficiency  with  a  very  bitter  smile. 

"And  know  you  of  your  own  low  descent,  from  the  Ridds, 
of  Oare?" 

"Sir,"  I  answered,  being  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  this  style 
of  speech,  "  the  Eidds,  of  Oare,  have  been  honest  men,  twice 
as  long  as  the  Doones  have  been  rogues." 

"I  would  not  answer  for  that,  John,"  Sir  Ensor  replied, 
very  quietly,  wnen  I  expected  fury.  "  If  it  be  so,  thy  family 
is  the  very  oldest  in  Europe.  Now  hearken  to  me,  boy,  or 
clown,  or  honest  fool,  or  whatever  thou  art;  hearken  to  an  old 
man's  words,  who  has  not  many  hours  to  live.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  this  world  to  fear,  nothing  to  revere  or  trust,  nothing 
even  to  hope  for;  least  of  all,  is  there  aught  to  love." 

"I  hope  your  worship  is  not  quite  right,"  I  answered,  with 
great  misgivings;  "else  it  is  a  sad  mistake  for  any  body  to 
live,  sir." 

"  Therefore,"  he  continued,  as  if  I  had  never  spoken,  "though 
it  may  seem  hard  for  a  week  or  two,  like  the  loss  of  any  other 
toy,  I  deprive  you  of  nothing,  but  add  to  your  comfort,  and 
(if  there  be  such  a  thing)  to  your  happiness,  when  I  forbid 
you  ever  to  see  that  foolish  child  again.  All  marriage  is  a 
wretched  farce,  even  when  man  and  wife  belong  to  the  same 
rank  of  life,  have  temper  well  assorted,  similar  likes  and  dis- 
likes, and  about  the  same  pittance  of  mind.  But  when  they 
are  not  so  matched,  the  farce  would  become  a  long  dull  tragedy, 
if  any  thing  were  worth  lamenting.  There,  I  have  reasoned 
enough  Avith  you;  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  reasoning.  Though 
I  have  little  confidence  in  man's  honor,  I  have  some  reliance 
in  woman's  pride.  You  will  pledge  your  word  in  Lorna's 
presence,  never  to  see  or  to  seek  her  again;  never  even  to 
think  of  her  more.     Now  call  her,  for  I  am  weary." 

He  kept  his  great  eyes  fixed  upon  me  with  their  icy  fire  (as 
if  he  scorned  both  life  and  death),  and  on  his  haughty  lips 


TWO    FOOLSi    TOGETITER.  287 

some  slight  amusement  at  my  trouble  \  and  then  he  raised  one 
hand  (as  if  I  were  a  poor  dumb  creature),  and  pointed  to  the 
door.  Although  my  heart  rebelled  and  kindled  at  his  proud 
disdain,  I  could  not  disobey  him  freely;  but  made  a  low  salute, 
and  went  straightway  in  search  of  Lorna. 

I  found  my  love  (or  not  my  love;  according  as  now  she 
should  behave;  for  I  was  very  desperate,  being  put  upon  so 
sadly)  Lorna  Doone  was  crying  softly  at  a  little  window,  and 
listening  to  the  river's  grief.  I  laid  my  heavy  arm  around 
lier,  not  with  any  air  of  claiming,  or  of  forcing  her  thoughts 
to  me,  but  only  just  to  comfort  her,  and  ask  what  she  was 
thinking  of.  To  my  arm  she  made  no  answer,  neither  to  my 
seeking  eyes;  but  to  my  heart,  once  for  all,  she  spoke  with 
her  own  upon  it.  Not  a  word,  nor  sound  between  us;  not 
even  a  kiss  was  interchanged;  but  man,  or  maid,  who  has  ever 
loved  hath  learned  our  understanding. 

Therefore  it  came  to  pass,  that  we  saw  fit  to  enter  Sir 
Ensor's  room,  in  the  following  manner.  Lorna,  with  her  right 
hand  swallowed  entirely  by  the  palm  of  mine,  and  her  waist 
retired  from  view  by  means  of  my  left  arm.  All  one  side  of 
lier  hair  came  down,  in  a  way  to  be  remembered,  upon  the  left 
and  fairest  part  of  my  favorite  otter-skin  waistcoat;  and  her 
head  as  well  w^ould  have  lain  there  doubtless,  but  for  the 
danger  of  walking  so.  I,  for  my  part,  was  too  far  gone  to 
lag  behind  in  the  matter :  but  carried  my  love  bravely,  fear- 
ing neither  death  nor  hell,  while  she  abode  beside  me. 

Old  Sir  Ensor  looked  much  astonished.  For  forty  years  he 
had  been  obeyed  and  feared  by  all  around  him;  and  he  knew 
that  I  had  feared  him  vastly,  before  I  got  hold  of  Lorna.  And 
indeed  I  was  still  afraid  of  him;  only  for  loving  Lorna  so, 
and  having  to  protect  her. 

Then  I  made  him  a  bow,  to  the  very  best  of  all  I  had  learned 
both  at  Tiverton  and  in  London;  after  that  I  w^aited  for  him 
to  begin,  as  became  his  age  and  rank  in  life. 

"Ye  two  fools!  "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  depth  of  contempt 
which  no  words  may  utter :  "  ye  two  fools !  " 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered  softly;  "may  be 
we  are  not  such  fools  as  we  look.  But  though  we  be,  we  are 
well  content,  so  long  as  w^e  may  be  two  fools  together." 

"Why,  John,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  spark,  as  of  smiling 
in  his  eyes;  "thou  art  not  altogether  the  clumsy  yokel,  and 
the  clod,  I  took  thee  for." 

"Oh  no,  grandfather;  oh  dear  grandfather,"  cried  Lorna, 
with  such  zeal  and  flashing,  that  her   hands  went   forward; 


288  LORNA  DOONE. 

"  nobody  knows  what  John  Ridd  is,  because  he  is  so  modest. 
I  mean,  nobody  except  me,  dear."  And  here  she  turned  to 
me  again,  and  rose  upon  tiptoe,  and  kissed  me. 

"I  have  seen  a  little  of  the  world,"  said  the  old  man,  while 
I  was  half  ashamed,  although  so  proud  of  Lorna;  "but  this  is 
beyond  all  I  have  seen,  and  nearly  all  I  have  heard  of.  It  is 
more  fit  for  southern  climates,  than  for  the  fogs  of  Exmoor." 

"It  is  fit  for  all  the  world,  your  worship;  with  your  honor's 
good  leave,  and  will,"  I  answered  in  humility,  being  still 
ashamed  of  it;  "when  it  happens  so  to  people,  there  is  noth- 
ing that  can  stop  it,  sir." 

Now  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  leaning  back  upon  his  brown 
chair-rail,  which  was  built  like  a  triangle,  as  in  old  farm- 
houses (from  one  of  which  it  had  come,  no  doubt,  free  from  ex- 
pense or  gratitude) ;  and  as  I  spoke  he  coughed  a  little ;  and  he 
sighed  a  good  deal  more;  and  perhaps  his  dying  heart  desired 
to  open  time  again,  with  such  a  lift  of  warmth  and  hope  as 
he  descried  in  our  eyes,  and  arms.  I  could  not  understand  him 
then;  any  more  than  a  baby  playing  with  his  grandfather's 
spectacles;  nevertheless  I  wondered  whether,  at  his  time  of 
life,  or  rather  on  the  brink  of  death,  he  was  thinking  of  his 
youth  and  prime. 

"Fools  you  are;  be  fools  for  ever,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone  at 
last;  while  we  feared  to  break  his  thoughts,  but  let  each  other 
know  our  own,  with  little  ways  of  pressure :  "  it  is  the  best 
thing  I  can  wish  you;  boy  and  girl,  be  boy  and  girl,  until  you 
have  grandchildren." 

Partly  in  bitterness  he  spoke,  and  partly  in  pure  weariness, 
and  then  he  turned  so  as  not  to  see  us ;  and  his  white  hair  fell, 
like  a  shroud,  around  him. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

COLD    COMFORT. 

All  things  being  full  of  flaw,  all  things  being  full  of  holes, 
the  strength  of  all  things  is  in  shortness.  If  Sir  Ensor 
Doone  had  dwelled  for  half-an-hour  upon  himself,  and  an 
hour  perhaps  upon  Lorna  and  me,  we  must  both  have  wearied 
of  him,  and  required  change  of  air.  But  now  I  longed  to  see 
and  know  a  great  deal  more  about  him,  and  hoped  that  he 
might  not  go  to  heaven,  for  at  least  a  week  or  more.     How- 


Fools  you   are:    be    foolis    forever."  —  Vol.  I.  p. 


COLD   COMFORT.  289 

ever  he  was  too  good  for  this  world  (as  we  say  of  all  people 
wao  leave  it) ;  and  I  verily  believe  his  heart  was  not  a  bad  one, 
after  all.  Evil  he  had  done,  no  doubt,  as  evil  had  been  done 
to  him;  yet  how  many  have  done  evil,  while  receiving  only 
good!  Be  that  as  it  may;  nor  further  vexing  of  a  question 
(settled  for  ever  without  our  votes),  let  us  own  that  he  Avas, 
at  least,  a  brave  and  courteous  gentleman. 

And  his  loss  aroused  great  lamentation,  not  among  the 
Doones  alone,  and  the  women  they  had  carried  off,  but  also 
of  the  general  public,  and  many  even  of  the  magistrates,  tor 
several  miles  round  Exmoor.  And  this,  not  only  from  fear 
lest  one  more  wicked  might  succeed  him  (as  appeared  indeed 
too  probable),  but  from  true  admiration  of  his  strong  will,  and 
sympathy  with  his  misfortunes. 

I  will  not  deceive  any  one,  by  saying  that  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
gave  (in  so  many  words)  his  consent  to  my  resolve  about 
Lorna.  This  he  never  did,  except  by  his  speech  last  written 
down;  from  which,  as  he  mentioned  grandchildren,  a  lawyer 
perhaps  might  have  argued  it.  Not  but  what  he  may  have  * 
meant  to  bestow  on  us  his  blessing;  only  that  he  died  next 
day,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  do  it. 

He  called  indeed  for  his  box  of  snuff,  which  was  a  very 
high  thing  to  take;  and  which  he  never  took  without  being  in 
very  good  liuraor,  at  least  for  him.  And  though  it  would  not 
go  up  his  nostrils,  through  the  failure  of  his  breath,  he  was 
pleased  to  have  it  there,  and  not  to  think  of  dying. 

"Will  your  honor  have  it  wiped?"  I  asked  him  very  softly, 
for  the  brown  appearance  of  it  spoiled  (to  my  idea)  his  white 
mostachio ;  but  he  seemed  to  shake  his  head,  and  I  thought  it 
kept  his  spirits  up.  I  had  never  before  seen  any  one  do,  what 
all  of  us  have  to  do  some  day;  and  it  greatly  kept  my  spirits 
down,  although  it  did  not  so  very  much  frighten  me. 

For  it  takes  a  man  but  a  little  while,  his  instinct  being  of 
death  perhaps,  at  least  as  much  as  of  life  (which  accounts  for 
his  slaying  his  fellow  men  so,  and  every  other  creature),  it 
does  not  take  a  man  very  long  to  enter  into  another  man's 
death,  and  bring  his  own  mood  to  suit  it.  He  knows  that  his 
own  is  sure  to  come;  and  nature  is  fond  of  the  practice. 
Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  I,  after  easing  my  mother's  fears, 
and  seeing  a  little  to  business,  returned  (as  if  drawn  by  a  polar 
needle)  to  the  death-bed  of  Sir  Ensor. 

There  was  some  little  confusion,  people  wanting  to  get 
away,  and  people  trying  to  come  in,  from  downright  curiosity 
(of  all  things  the  most  hateful),  and  others  making  great  to-do, 

VOL.  I.  —  19 


290  LOBNA  DOONE. 

and  talking  of  their  own  time  to  come,  telling  their  own  age, 
and  so  on.  Bnt  every  one  seemed  to  think,  or  feel,  that  I  had 
a  right  to  be  there ;  becanse  the  women  took  that  view  of  it. 
As  for  Carver  and  Connsellor,  they  were  minding  their  own 
affairs,  so  as  to  win  the  succession;  and  never  found  it  in  their 
business  (at  least  so  long  as  I  was  there)  to  come  near  the 
dying  man. 

He,  for  his  part,  never  asked  for  any  one  to  come  near  him, 
not  even  a  priest,  nor  a  monk  or  friar ;  but  seemed  to  be  going 
his  own  way,  peaceful,  and  well  contented.  Only  the  chief 
of  the  women  said,  that  from  his  face  she  believed  and  knew, 
that  he  liked  to  have  me  at  one  side  of  his  bed,  and  Lorna 
upon  the  other.  An  hour  or  two  ere  the  old  man  died,  when 
only  we  two  were  with  him,  he  looked  at  us  both  very  dimly 
and  softly,  as  if  he  wished  to  do  something  for  us,  but  had  left 
it  now  too  late.  Lorna  hoped  that  he  wanted  to  bless  us ;  but 
he  only  frowned  at  that,  and  let  his  hand  drop  downward,  and 
crooked  one  knotted  finger. 

"He  wants  something  out  of  the  bed,  dear,"  Lorna  whis- 
pered to  me;  "see  what  it  is,  upon  your  side,  there." 

I  followed  the  bent  of  his  poor  shrunken  hand,  and  sought 
among  the  pilings ;  and  there  I  felt  something  hard  and  sharp, 
and  drew  it  forth  and  gave  it  to  him.  It  flashed,  like  the 
spray  of  a  fountain  upon  us,  in  the  dark  winter  of  the  room. 
He  could  not  take  it  in  his  hand,  but  let  it  hang,  as  daisies 
do ;  only  making  Lorna  see  that  he  meant  her  to  have  it. 

"  Why,  it  is  my  glass  necklace !  "  Lorna  cried,  in  great  sur- 
prise; "my  necklace  he  always  promised  me;  and  from  which 
you  have  got  the  ring,  John,  But  grandfather  kept  it,  be- 
cause the  children  wanted  to  i)ull  it  from  my  neck.  May  I 
have  it  now,  dear  grandfather?    Not  unless  you  wish,  dear." 

Darling  Lorna  wept  again,  because  the  old  man  could  not 
tell  her  (except  by  one  very  feeble  nod)  that  she  was  doing 
what  he  wished.  Then  she  gave  to  me  the  trinket,  for  the 
sake  of  safety ;  and  I  stowed  it  in  my  breast.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  follow  this,  and  to  be  well  content  with  it. 

Before  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  buried,  the  greatest  frost  of  the 
century  had  set  in,  with  its  iron  hand,  and  step  of  stone,  on 
every  thing.  How  it  came  is  not  my  business,  nor  can  I  ex- 
plain it ;  because  I  never  have  watched  the  skies ;  as  people 
now  begin  to  do,  when  the  ground  is  not  to  their  liking. 
Though  of  all  this  I  know  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing  I 
may  say  (because  I  ought  to  know  something) ;  I  can  hear 
what  people  tell  me;  and  I  can  see  before  my  eyes. 


COLD    COMFORT.  291 

The  strong  men  broke  three  good  pickaxes,  ere  they  got 
through  the  hard  brown  sod,  checked  with  flakes  of  frosty 
white,  where  old  Sir  Ensor  was  to  lie  upon  his  back,  awaiting 
the  darkness  of  the  Judgment-day.  It  was  in  the  little  chapel- 
yard;  I  will  not  tell  the  name  of  it;  because  we  are  now  such 
Protestants,  that  I  might  do  it  an  evil  turn;  only  it  was  the 
little  place  where  Lorna's  Aunt  Sabina  lay. 

Here  was  I,  remaining  long,  with  a  little  curiosity ;  because 
some  people  told  me  plainly,  that  I  must  be  damned  for  ever 
by  a  Papist  funeral ;  and  here  came  Lorna,  scarcely  breathing 
through  the  thick  of  stuff  around  her,  yet  with  all  her  little 
breath  steaming  on  the  air,  like  frost. 

I  stood  apart  from  the  ceremony,  in  which  of  course  I  was 
not  entitled,  either  by  birth  or  religion,  to  bear  any  portion ; 
and  indeed  it  would  have  been  wiser  in  me  to  have  kept  away 
altogether;  for  now  there  was  no  one  to  protect  me  among 
those  wild  and  lawless  men ;  and  both  Carver,  and  the  Coun- 
sellor, had  vowed  a  fearful  vengeance  on  me,  as  I  heard  from 
Gwenny.  They  had  not  dared  to  meddle  with  me,  while  the 
chief  lay  dying;  nor  was  it  in  their  policy,  for  a  short  time 
after  that,  to  endanger  their  succession,  by  an  open  breach 
with  Lorna,  whose  tender  age  and  beauty  held  so  many  of  the 
youths  in  thrall. 

The  ancient  outlaw's  funeral  was  a  grand  and  moving  sight; 
more  perhaps  from  the  sense  of  contrast,  than  from  that  of 
fitness.  To  see  those  dark  and  mighty  men,  inured  to  all  of 
sin  and  crime,  reckless  both  of  man  and  God,  yet  now  with 
heads  devoutly  bent,  clasped  hands,  and  downcast  eyes,  fol- 
lowing the  long  black  coffin  of  their  common  ancestor,  to  the 
place  where  they  must  join  him,  when  their  sum  of  ill  was 
done;  and'  to  see  the  feeble  priest  chanting,  over  the  dead 
form,  words  the  living  would  have  laughed  at,  sprinkling  with 
his  little  broom  drops  that  could  not  purify ;  while  the  chil- 
dren, robed  in  white,  swung  their  smoking  censers  slowly  oyer 
the  cold  and  twilight  grave :  and  after  seeing  all,  to  ask,  with 
a  shudder  unexpressed,  "Is  this  the  end  that  God  intended 
for  a  man  so  proud  and  strong?  " 

Not  a  tear  was  shed  upon  him,  except  from  the  sweetest  of 
all  sweet  eyes;  not  a  sigh  pursued  him  home.  Except  in  hot 
anger,  his  life  had  been  very  cold,  and  bitter,  and  distant;  and 
now  a  week  had  exhausted  all  the  sorrow  of  those  around  him, 
a  grief  flowing  less  from  affection  than  fear.  Aged  men  will 
show  his  tombstone;  mothers  haste  with  their  inf ants  _ by  it ; 
childi-en  shrink  from  the  name  upon  it;  until  in  time  his  his- 


292  LORNA  DOONE. 

tory  shall  lapse,  and  be  forgotten  by  all,  except  the  great 
Judge  and  God. 

After  all  was  over,  I  strode  across  the  moors  very  sadly; 
trying  to  keep  the  cold  away,  by  virtue  of  quick  movement. 
Not  a  fl-ike  of  snow  had  fallen  yet;  all  the  earth  was  caked 
and  hard,  with  a  dry  brown  crust  upon  it;  all  the  sky  was 
banked  with  darkness,  hard,  anstere,  and  frowning.  The  fog 
of  the  last  three  weeks  was  gone,  neither  did  any  rime  remain ; 
but  all  things  had  a  look  of  sameness,  and  a  kind  of  furzy 
color.  It  was  freezing  hard  and  sharp,  with  a  piercing  wind 
to  back  it ;  and  I  had  observed  that  the  holy  water  froze  npon 
Sir  Ensor's  coffin. 

One  thing  struck  me  with  some  surprise,  as  I  made  off  for 
our  fireside  (with  a  strong  determination  to  heave  an  ash-tree 
up  the  chimney-place),  and  that  was  how  the  birds  were  going, 
rather  than  flying  as  they  used  to  fly.  All  the  birds  were  set 
in  one  direction,  steadily  journeying  westward,  not  Avith  any 
heat  of  speed,  neither  flying  far  at  once;  but  all  (as  if  on  busi- 
ness bound),  partly  running,  partly  flying,  partly  fluttering 
along;  silently,  and  without  a  voice,  neither  pricking  head 
nor  tail.  This  movement  of  the  birds  went  on,  even  for  a 
week  or  more;  every  kind  of  thrushes  passed  us,  every  kind 
of  wild  fowl,  even  plovers  went  away,  and  crows,  and  snipes, 
and  woodcocks.  And  before  half  the  frost  was  over,  all  we 
had  in  the  snowy  ditches  were  hares  so  tame  that  we  could 
pat  them;  partridges  that  came  to  hand,  with  a  dry  noise  in 
their  crops;  heath-poults,  making  cups  of  snow;  and  a  few 
poor  hopping  redwings,  flipping  in  and  out  the  hedge,  hav- 
ing lost  tne  power  to  fly.  And  all  the  time,  their  great  black 
eyes,  set  with  gold  around  them,  seemed  to  look  at  any  man, 
for  mercy  and  for  comfort. 

Annie  took  a  many  of  them,  all  that  she  could  find  herself, 
and  all  the  boys  would  bring  her ;  and  she  made  a  great  hutch 
near  the  fire,  in  the  back-kitchen  chimney-place.  Here,  in 
spite  of  our  old  Betty  (who  sadly  Avanted  to  roast  them),  Annie 
kept  some  fifty  birds,  with  bread  and  milk,  and  raw  chopped 
meat,  and  all  the  seed  she  could  think  of,  and  lumps  of  rotten 
apples,  placed,  to  tempt  them,  in  the  corners.  Some  got  on, 
and  some  died  off;  and  Annie  cried  for  all  that  died,  and 
buried  them  under  the  Avoodrick;  but,  I  do  assure  you,  it  Avas 
a  pretty  thing  to  see,  Avhen  she  Avent  to  them  in  the  morning. 
There  Avas  not  a  bird  but  knew  her  Avell,  after  one  day  of  com- 
forting; and  some  Avould  come  to  her  hand,  and  sit,  and  shut 
one  eye,  and  look  at  her.     Then  she  used  to  stroke  their  heads, 


COLD   COMFORT.  293 

and  feel  their  breasts,  and  talk  to  them;  and  not  a  bird  of 
them  all  was  there,  but  liked  to  have  it  done  to  him.  And 
I  do  believe  they  would  eat  from  her  hand  things  unnatural  to 
them,  lest  she  should  be  grieved  and  hurt,  by  not  knowing 
what  to  do  for  them.  One  of  them  was  a  noble  bird,  such  as 
I  never  had  seen  before,  of  very  fine  bright  jolumage,  and 
larger  than  a  missel-thrush.  He  was  the  hardest  of  all  to 
please;  and  yet  he  tried  to  do  his  best.  I  have  heard  since 
then,  from  a  man  who  knows  all  about  birds,  and  beasts,  and 
fishes,  that  he  must  have  been  a  Norwegian  bird,  called  in  this 
country  a  "Roller,"  who  never  comes  to  England  but  in  the 
most  tremendous  Avinters. 

Another  little  bird  there  was,  whom  I  longed  to  welcome 
home,  and  protect  from  enemies,  a  little  bird  no  native  to  us, 
but  than  any  native  dearer.  But  lo,  in  the  very  night  which 
followed  old  Sir  Ensor's  funeral,  such  a  storm  of  snow  began, 
as  never  have  I  heard  nor  read  of,  neither  could  have  dreamed 
it.  At  what  time  of  night  it  first  began  is  more  than  1  can 
say,  at  least  from  my  own  knowledge,  for  we  all  went  to  bed 
soon  after  supper,  being  cold,  and  not  inclined  to  talk.  At 
that  time  the  wind  was  moaning  sadly,  and  the  sky  as  dark 
as  a  wood,  and  the  straw  in  the  yard  swirling  round  and  round, 
and  the  cows  huddling  into  the  great  cowhouse,  with  their 
chins  upon  one  another.  But  we,  being  blinder  than  tliey,  I 
suppose,  and  not  having  had  a  great  snow  for  years,  made  no 
preparation  against  the  storm,  except  that  the  lambing  ewes 
were  in  shelter. 

It  struck  me,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  that  we  were  acting  foolishly; 
for  an  ancient  shepherd  had  dropped  in,  and  taken  supper  with 
us,  and  foretold  a  heavy  fall,  and  great  disaster  to  live  stock. 
He  said  that  he  had  known  a  frost  beginning,  just  as  this  had 
done,  with  a  black  east  wind,  after  days  of  raw  cold  fog,  and 
then  on  the  third  night  of  the  frost,  at  this  very  time  of  year 
(to  wit  on  the  15th  of  December)  such  a  snow  set  in  as  killed 
half  of  the  sheep,  and  many  even  of  the  red  deer,  and  the 
forest  ponies.  It  was  three-score  years  agone,^  he  said;  and 
cause  he  had  to  remember  it,  inasmuch  as  two  of  his  toes  had 
been  lost  by  frost  nip,  while  he  dug  out  his  sheep,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Dunkery.  Hereupon  mother  nodded  at  him, 
having  heard  from  her  father  about  it,  and  how  three  men 
had  been  frozen  to  death,  and  how  badly  their  stockings  came 
off  from  them. 

1  The  frost  of  1625. 


294  LOENA  BOONE. 

Remembering  how  the  old  man  looked,  and  his  manner  of 
listening  to  the  wind,  and  shaking  his  head  very  ominously 
(when  Annie  gave  him  a  glass  of  schnapps),  I  grew  quite  uneasy 
in  my  bed,  as  the  room  got  colder  and  colder;  and  I  made  up 
my  mind,  if  it  only  pleased  God  not  to  send  the  snow  till  the 
morning,  that  every  sheep,  and  horse,  and  cow,  ay  and  even 
the  jackass,  should  be  brought  in  snug,  and  with  plenty  to 
eat,  and  fodder  enough  to  roast  them. 

Alas,  what  use  of  man's  resolves,  when  the}^  come  a  day  too 
late:  even  if  they  may  avail  a  little,  when  they  are  most 
punctual ! 

In  the  bitter  morning,  I  arose,  to  follow  out  my  purpose, 
knowing  the  time  from  the  force  of  habit,  although  the  room 
was  so  dark  and  gray.  An  odd  white  light  was  on  the  rafters, 
such  as  I  never  had  seen  before;  while  all  the  length  of  the 
room  was  grisly,  like  the  heart  of  a  mouldy  oat-rick.  I  w^ent 
to  the  window,  at  once,  of  course;  and  at  first  I  could  not 
understand  what  was  doing  outside  of  it.  It  faced  due  east 
(as  I  may  have  said),  with  the  Avalnut-tree  partly  sheltering 
it;  and  generally  I  could  see  the  yard,  and  the  woodrick,  and 
even  the  church  beyond. 

But  now,  half  the  lattice  was  quite  blocked  up,  as  if  j^las- 
tered  with  gray  lime;  and  little  fringes,  like  ferns,  came 
through,  where  the  joining  of  the  lead  was;  and  in  the  only 
undarkened  part,  countless  dots  came  swarming,  clustering, 
beating  with  a  soft  low  sound,  then  gliding  down  in  a  slip- 
pery manner,  not  as  drops  of  rain  do,  but  each  distinct  from 
his  neighbor.  Inside  the  iron  frame  (which  fitted,  not  to  say 
too  comfortably,  and  went  along  the  stone-work),  at  least  a 
peck  of  snow  had  entered,  following  its  own  bend  and  fancy  • 
light  as  any  cobweb. 

With  some  trouble,  and  great  care,  lest  the  ancient  frame 
should  yield,  I  spread  the  lattice  open,  and  saw  at  once  that 
not  a  moment  must  be  lost,  to  save  our  stock.  All  the  earth 
was  flat  with  snow,  all  the  air  was  thick  with  snow;  more 
than  this  no  man  could  see,  for  all  the  world  was  snowing. 

I  shut  the  window,  and  dressed  in  haste ;  and  when  I  entered 
the  kitchen,  not  even  Bett}',  the  earliest  of  all  early  birds, 
was  there.  I  raked  the  ashes  together  a  little,  just  to  see  a 
spark  of  warmth ;  and  then  set  forth  to  find  John  Fry,  Jem 
Slocombe,  and  Bill  Dadds.  But  this  was  easier  thought  than 
done ;  for  when  I  opened  the  court-yard  door,  I  was  taken  up 
to  my  knees  at  once,  and  the  power  of  the  drifting  cloud  pre- 
vented sight  of  any  thing.     However,  I  found  my  way  to  the 


COLD   COMFORT.  295 

woodrick,  and  there  got  hold  of  a  fine  ash-stake,  cut  b}^  my 
self  not  long  ago.     With  this  I  ploughed  along  pretty  well, 
and  thundered  so  hard  at  John  Fry's  door,  that  he  thought  it 
was  the  Doones  at  least,  and  cocked  his  blunderbuss  out  of 
the  window. 

John  was  very  loth  to  come  down,  when  he  saw  the  mean- 
ing of  it;  for  he  valued  his  life  more  than  any  thing  else, 
though  he  tried  to  make  out  that  his  wife  was  to  blame.  But 
I  settled  his  doubts  by  telling  him,  that  I  would  have  him  on 
my  shoulder  naked,  unless  he  came  in  five  minutes;  not  that 
he  could  do  much  good,  but  because  the  other  men  would  be 
sure  to  skulk,  if  he  set  them  the  example.  With  spades,  and 
shovels,  and  pitchforks,  and  a  round  of  roping,  we  four  set 
forth  to  dig  out  the  sheep ;  and  the  poor  things  knew  that  it 
was  high  time. 


EXD    OF    VOL.    I. 


Electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  1LUNO.S-URBANA 


